Always With You
by inigo1220
Summary: Berwald and Tino's relationship throughout history is ever-changing. But the one thing that has always been constant is their love. Begins in the 12th Century. SuFin, but tries to be as historically accurate as possible.
1. Chapter 1: 12th Century

**_A/N: Slightly altered 3.9.12_  
**

* * *

**12th Century**

Tino smiled happily as he raced through the thick grove of trees. Their needles struck his body and scratched his skin as he rushed passed them. The air was frigid; the sun was low in the sky; and a world that to anyone else would have felt like a cage felt like a blessing to Tino. He could feel his feet almost burning from the touch of the snow, but it only encouraged him to run faster and keep running until his throat burned just as much from the cold air.

It was an exciting feeling—so he ran.

Today was a good day: they'd beaten back another one of Novgorod's* armies, and were due for some sort of peace any day now. For once, his tribes had banded together with no backstabbing or fighting amongst themselves. More than ever, Tino was proud to call them his own.

Finally, the trees gave way, and Tino found himself only a little ways away from a frozen lake, nearly invisible due to the snow. He stopped at the edge of the forest, not wanting to leave its safety. Bending his body slightly, he rested his palms above his knees as he panted, enjoying the sight of his breath coming out in white little puffs. He exhaled a long breath and watched with interest as it seemed to come out in a white cloud of sorts. Briefly, he wondered why it did so, but his mind quickly turned back to his earlier ecstasy: he'd won against a much bigger enemy, and that gave him copious amounts of satisfaction. He smirked, recalling the brilliant ideas of his men and the screams of the fleeing Novgorodians. Served them right for thinking that they could have settled in _his_ land.

He let his hands fall to his sides, as he raised his head to the skies and took a deep breath. The sky was such a beautiful blue today. He loved the sky: it made him feel so small, so insignificant. It almost allowed him to forget and consoled him when the past seemed inescapable. And what a past it was. A past filled with loneliness and battles. Fighting. It was the only thing he had known his whole life.

He loved it. But he hated it, too. It made him feel so alive to be there in the moment, knowing that the darkness could settle at any moment. It filled him with adrenaline, made him feel strong as his peoples' goals became the same: to defeat the enemy. It filled him with sort of sick giddiness, hearing cries of pain and victory, and confused him so terribly. It was an problem that he could never solve, but the fact that he could not solve it was what made it so amazing.

But it brought him so much pain, too. He couldn't sleep for weeks, having to dream about the lives of the widows and orphans, feeling their pain and sadness. Sometimes, he thought, sometimes it was good to just be like this, running through the forest, feeling the cold, the trees, the air, enjoying the light.

He closed his eyes, then opened them slowly, trying to take everything in, marvelling at the clarity of his sight and burn of his skin and feeling of the wind. A thought jumped into his mind, called upon by his stomach. He would need to hunt soon. Though wounds did not hurt him as much as they hurt his men, he was would feel the effects of hunger just as much as they did. He closed his eyes and felt his land around him, hoping to find a meal close by. Starting a fire was no problem, even killing an animal was little trouble, but nothing irritated him more than having to hide in a tree and wait for a meal to walk by.

The crunching of snow interrupted his search. Quickly, he leapt up a tree, scampering to one of the more leaf-heavy branches, thankful that he was still small enough to do so. The crunching was coming from faraway and within the forest, but Tino knew better than to let that mollify him. His land was still wild; he had no one to count on for miles. The person approaching could be a Swede or a trader or a madman for all he knew. The crunching continued and Tino's heart nearly stopped when he saw who it was.

The teen that stood only a few feet from the tree had paused and seemed to be almost scowling in frustration. So angular and sharp were his features, that Tino conjectured that he must be some seventeen winters old... that is... if he wasn't who Tino believed him to be. But it had to be _him_. The same blue eyes and angry expression. Same messy, blond hair. The teen even wore a similar cape, dark blue, long, reaching to his knees. But now, instead of a staff, he carried a sword. Tino cursed as softly as possible. With this one, he could never be sure. His earlier ecstasy gone, Tino watched the teen closely and shifted slightly to allow him better access to his knife. If the teen was who Tino thought he was, he could be a very, very big threat. Suddenly, the teen whipped his sword out and sliced through the branch that had been covering Tino. Stunned, Tino cowered back slightly, then jumped to the ground, crouched slightly, and pulled out his knife, prepared for the worst. The teen's lip twitched, as though he found Tino amusing, but he did not lower his sword. They remained that way until Tino spat, "What do you want, _Ruotsi_?"

"Lookin' for ya." Berwald lowered his sword just a little bit. His eyes dropped to Finlandi's knife, then rose to meet Finlandi's. Berwald wished he were better at expressing himself. "Won't hurt you," he tried. No, he could never hurt Finlandi. The boy had gotten a little bigger since the last time Berwald had gotten a glimpse of him, but his size was certainly nothing to brag about. He looked only about twelve! But he sure could glare, Berwald smiled inwardly, as Tino regarded him coldly and responded slowly, "Same here. So long as you drop that." Tino motioned with head towards the ground.

Sweden shrugged and dropped the sword into the snow. He wasn't going to use it anyway. He had only come here to warn the stubborn boy. Regardless, the Finn didn't look like he could put up too much of a fight.

Tino's eyes widened, but he quickly composed himself. "Fine," he said, returning his knife to his pocket, but keep his hand on the hilt. "Why were you looking for me?"

"Come home with me."

"I'm sorry?" exclaimed Tino, his eyebrow's jumping to meet the hair that framed his face. Perhaps Sweden was a madman. "You want me to come home with you? To your house?!" Tino nearly yelped. "I...I don't even know you. I have met you once in my life and that once included you almost attacking me, then fighting off Novgorod because I seemed like a damsel in distress to you just because I was younger."

"Ya look more like a girl, too," Berwald interrupted seriously. Although, Berwald added to himself, it's mostly because he's younger...

Tino's face reddened, as he scrambled to come up with snarky remark. "I... No, I... Not all of us have people who settle down. Some of us like freedom,"* he snapped. Sweden shrugged, and looked pointedly at his sword then at Finlandi's waist, where the boy's knife was hidden. Tino blushed again. "Whatever. I would rather be free and happy with my sorry _iron_ knife, then forced to spend my time stuck listening to a king, feeling high and mighty because I have a sword-"

"And getting attacked," Sweden interrupted. This time his words were laced with worry.

Before Sweden could move, Tino whipped out his knife and had Sweden on the ground with Tino's knife at his neck. "You're on my turf right now, Sweden," Tino hissed. "This may be close to your land, and you probably have somewhere to run to, but right now, if I want to, I can hurt you and leave you here to freeze to death. Or I could spare you the trouble and push this knife a little deeper into your throat. Trust me. It won't weigh on my conscience. So, I suggest you stop with the witty interruptions and remarks and tell me what the fuck you want."

Sweden looked at him confusedly, as though he was surprised that Finlandi not only could knock him down, but also that he had. "My king wants you," said Sweden, trying to explain. Berwald was still in shock; he hadn't realised how strong sweet, cute Finlandi could be. This might be a lot more difficult than he had assumed it would be.

Tino loosened his grip in surprise, and Sweden easily pushed him off, though he did not try to overpower the smaller Finn. Tino seemed to accept the defeat and allowed Berwald to stand up. "Why?" Tino demanded. Sweden shrugged, looking at the ground. "Damn' it, _Ruotsi_. Did you come here just to shrug and threaten me? You know that I will fight you to the death. This is my land, and you aren't going to take it from me. I don't care how much Novgorod beats me up or how painful it is. Despite my appearance, I can take care of myself... And my people will not allow it." Tino broke off as he saw Sweden's eyebrow rise by a millimetre. For once, he wasn't quite sure if he should be so observant. "What?"

Berwald just looked at him, trying to get a point across. Didn't Finlandi realise how much power Berwald already had in _Finlandi's_ land?

Tino frowned in response. He both loved and hated how Sweden said so little. It allowed him to talk more, but it also required a lot of guessing. Then Sweden's gaze shifted towards the tree where Tino had been hiding—and then Tino's eyes widened as it clicked. "You can feel here," Tino whispered. Sweden nodded perfunctorily. For a moment, Tino was silent, then he said, his voice increasing in volume, "Damn' you... damn' you, Sweden."

Berwald gave him a slightly hurt look; didn't Finlandi realise how much he cared for him? His words, his powers, his actions... they were not threats. They were the only way that Berwald had of showing Tino how much he cared. Although, in truth, Berwald himself did not know why he cared so much. He had only caught glimpses of the boy through his people's trades with Finlandi's people. But Finlandi just felt like someone who needed to be protected... and loved. "Warned ya. Like or not, I'll be back soon," Berwald responded evenly.

He stepped towards Tino, and the Finn suddenly realised that Sweden was actually quite bigger and taller than Tino had initially thought. Even taller than Novgorod—and stronger looking as well. But Sweden's hesitance addled him. Sweden could easily taken him by force... so why hadn't he? If Sweden could feel his way in Tino's land, then Tino feared to know what other powers the teen might have over him. Although, as much as Tino hated to admit it, Sweden's influence made sense. His people had been fighting alongside and trading with Tino's own for centuries; for the most part they were peaceful and accepting of each other. Regardless...if Sweden did become Tino's ally, then there would be someone else to back him up if Novgorod decided to attack again; and though Tino hated to admit it, he could really use an ally—and his people could use the help.

Berwald continued to stare at Finlandi, conflicted himself. The way Finlandi was looking at him... it was as though he was beginning to believe that Berwald could care for him. Please, please, Berwald pleaded inwardly. He opened his mouth slightly, hoping to tip the scale, when Finlandi's jaw clenched and the Finn snapped,

"Well?"

Tino cringed on the inside, instantly regretting the tone. Sweden was being nice; Tino should be nice back.

Berwald bit his lip a bit, then spoke, stuttering to find the right words, "_Vänligen_, Finlandi... when we do... don't make me hurt you."

Tino's brow furrowed. The words themselves could have been a threat, but Sweden had said them so softly, so tenderly, that Tino could have mistaken them for care. He didn't want to hurt Tino. He wanted to protect him. The Swede...cared for him. And Tino... Tino wasn't sure anymore. But the word escaped his lips. "Tino."

Berwald stared at him, confused. Was that some word in Finlandi's language? "My name is Tino," the boy said hurriedly, then turned and sprinted away. And Sweden did not follow him.

Sweden continued to look in the direction where Finlandi—no, Tino—had fled. He smiled slightly. Next time, Berwald decided, next time he would tell him his name, too. Because when you told another land your name, it meant something, and it meant something good. He retrieved his sword from the snow, wiped it, and returned it to its sheath, then began walking west.

* * *

**Historical Notes:**

_ First, I'd just like to say that I know nothing of this period other than what I have read on Wikipedia... so if there are mistakes, please tell me! I'd like to keep this as historically accurate as possible—although, since this is the 12th century, the details are bound to be sketchy. _

_ Novgorod is what one day would become Russia. Finnic tribes and the Novgorodians fought for quite a few centuries. _

_ Finland isn't quite Finland yet. It's more like a bunch of tribes all living in the same area. From what I gathered, some would fight with Novgorod, others against. I wasn't able to find when the term "Suomi" (Finland in Finnish) came to exist, but, apparently, by the 11th century the area that we know as Finland began being referred to as "Finlandi," at some point, somehow, that "i" will be dropped. _

_ Sweden is sort of in the process of becoming Sweden. It used to be composed of a bunch of different provinces, but they are in the process of coming together and getting one king—that's why Tino says that he does not want to answer to a king. _

_ The Swedes and the Finns were no strangers to each other. Swedish Vikings often travelled east and after the Viking Age, the Swedes still traded with the Finns, which is why Tino is wary of Berwald._

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

_Vänligen - "please" in Swedish_

_This was significantly shorter when it didn't include Berwald's perspective... which I felt would be fair to give him, since he is a fairly quiet character. But is it too confusing? I tried to make it more clear whose thoughts they were by separating it through paragraphs—also, you may have noticed that when the thoughts are Berwald's, I called him Berwald and Tino "Finlandi", but when the thoughts are Tino's, I called Berwald "Sweden". Did that help? _

_ I normally don't/can't manage to write continuous stories... I won't keep up with it. But I'm trying. More than likely, this fic will jump around in the time, but all of it will lead up to the March 11, 1940, a one-shot I wrote a while back. Tino is going to be tougher than what I have often read him being presented as. Especially in the past. In my mind, I see him as starting off his life as a really tough, I-don't-believe-in-anyone character, but as he gets more and more pampered by Berwald, he lets that part of him go. And then as Berwald begins to forget about him and become more obsessed with being an empire that part of Tino resurfaces. At least, that's the feeling I get from Finnish history..._

_ BTW, at this point in time, Tino looks like he's around twelve, and Berwald looks like he's fifteen. No, Berwald is not in love with him. Not yet, at least. Right now, he feels more like he should be Tino's older brother/caretaker. As he states, he's not sure why, but I think he simply likes the idea of protecting those who are weaker. _


	2. Chapter 2: 13th Century

**13th Century**

"Really? Really, Sweden, this is the best excuse your Jarl* can create to get me?" snorted Tino to himself, as he kicked around a small pebble in the snow. He'd been alone in the forest for quite a while now-the sun was just beginning to set-and was starting to get irritated with this entire ordeal. He had heard a while back about the Tavastians and their sudden change in religion,* but had never imagined that it would lead to this. Tino sighed. He himself didn't care too much what religion his people practised, but for some reason or another many humans cared a lot about it. Humans like Sweden's Jarl, who had used the change as an excuse for a Crusade. And then decided to stay.

Tino didn't care much for religion, but it seemed to mollify his people that there was something waiting for them in the next life, and whatever made them happy, made him happy. But lately he had been thinking about the idea more and more. His own people, for the most part, died before half of a century had passed, so having that sort of security must be nice. Tino, on the other hand...well, he wasn't quite sure how life worked for a land. If a land was all he was. But he was sure he was more, or at least he hoped so. But after all, he had his own feelings! Lately, he had been having that argument with himself more and more often. Because if he was just a land... would he cease to exist if he became one with Sweden? Or would that depend on his people? And what would not existing be like? And—

Annoyed, he kicked the pebble into a bush, then scowled at himself for losing his plaything. He sighed as he sat down on a larger rock, rubbing his hands together in an effort to warm them.

He shouldn't be thinking about this. Not again. He'd spent too long thinking about this.

He couldn't deny the restless feeling though. Though the world was open to him—such an expanse of forest and lakes and land! Who could ask for more?—he felt caged. After Sweden had come in to "change the Tavastians' minds," they had joined Tino's people in their battle against Novgorod. And while Tino was initially grateful for the assistance, he had not realised that Sweden would explicitly demand that he be left out of the battle.

The Finnish nation began swinging his legs in boredom and anger. Yes, he realised he looked like a child. But despite appearances, he was several centuries old and could take care of himself; and while he was grateful for the help, he was also quite capable of fighting Novgorod on his own. In fact, he would have been able to help out on the battlefield. His knife may have been small, but it could slice an enemy's throat just as well as Sweden's sword. Besides, Sweden had never even seen him fight! How could he dismiss Tino so easily?! Tino forced himself to take a deep breath. He half-hoped that Sweden would come back defeated. Just to prove a point.

Although, considering what Tino had seen the Swede do, he doubted it.

But that was besides the point. Normally, he would love a break from his seemingly never-ending schedule of fighting; however, this was being taken too far! First the religious intervention. Then the influx of Swedes to the coast. Now this?! The merge was happening right in front of him, and he could do nothing to stop it!

Tino quickly stood up from the rock. He needed to do something. Anything. He scanned around the forest, feeling for where there was a concentration of life and death. Not too far, he noted, maybe twenty or so miles east. Perhaps, he mused, they would allow him to help with the healing and prayer? Tino smiled slightly. There we go, he thought somewhat viciously, you can try to keep me out of this all you want, but one way or another, this will be my land and my people, and I'm going to protect it.

He began running east.

**oOooOOooOo**

Berwald wondered, as his sword crashed against Novgorod's once again, if Novgorod had gotten stronger or if this was what Tino had always faced.

Because if it was—jab to the left—then Tino deserved—now, block—a lot more credit. He swung his sword forward, managing to slice into Novgorod's thick clothing. Berwald's lips curved into a small smile of satisfaction when Novgorod winced slightly. But Novgorod would not back down. They sliced and jabbed at each other, but neither gained any ground.

Berwald felt his skin prickle—and then there was darkness.

**oOooOOooOo**

"_Ruotsi_? Sweden?" a worried voice called. It sounded like...like Tino.

Tino.

Berwald opened his eyes quickly. There he was, leaning over Berwald, completely unscathed and with the most worried expression Berwald had ever seen him wear. Berwald sat up, wincing slightly. Though he was not visibly injured, he still felt rather sore. His head, thankfully, felt fine. He blinked a few times, but the fireplace did not provide a very bright light, and he adjusted quickly to his surroundings. It appeared that he was in a wooden cottage of some sort. The walls were slightly crooked, and it was not much bigger than Berwald's own room, but felt warm and cosy. He supposed that this was Tino's home. He tried to give the boy a smile.

Relief washed over Tino's features. And then anger.

"What the fuck did I tell you, you idiot!" Tino nearly yelled. "I can take care of myself, and I've been doing so for the past couple of centuries, but I let you go and you can't even-" Tino choked up. "I thought you were dead. You weren't moving, and I, I didn't know what to do! Most... most people I've seen be hit on the back of the head just die, but I didn't know... I, I wasn't sure, and-" he hiccuped, wiping his eyes hurriedly. Berwald nearly smiled at the sight of the boy crying over him and quickly encased him in a reassuring hug.

"It's okay," Berwald said, trying to console him. "I'm fine." Silly boy, he thought to himself, I wouldn't die from a hit to the head. Who on earth had raised this boy? … Now that he thought about it, Tino had never spoken of any caretaker or friend. Perhaps, perhaps the boy had been on his own for quite a while. He wondered if that was why Tino never seemed to shut up around others. Poor boy had probably never had another land to talk to. Berwald, on the other hand, had grown with Mathias and Lukas, and the former talked more than Berwald would have thought possible. He rubbed Tino's back soothingly as Tino attempted to stop his sobs. Berwald smiled, remembering how he, Lukas, and Mathias had always done that for each other and stayed in each other's arms for hours. But Tino surprised Berwald again, when he pushed him off and glared. "I'm not done," the boy announced.

Berwald chuckled: Tino obviously did not realise that his glares, though fierce, were more cute than frightening. Tino's glare vanished at the sound, and his eyes grew wide. "You... you just laughed," Tino exclaimed incredulously. Berwald stopped, raised a shoulder, and gave him a so-what look. "It's just... I've never heard you laugh before," Tino explained. "You always look really serious—or angry. Or a mixture of the two, really. Cause you always seem like you're very intense or glaring at something. I think it's your eyes. Cause it feels like you are always squinting. Can you not see stuff clearly? Or is it that stuff is too bright? Is it darker in—"

Berwald shook his head and interrupted, "I can't always see."

Tino cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"See better far away."

"Huh," said Tino, a pensive look appeared on face. "So you could see me-" he stood up and walked a few paces away "-hold up three fingers clearly over here." He held up two fingers. "But not here," he continued as he came very, very close to Berwald. Berwald squinted again, making Tino cringe a bit.

"Ya were holding two," Berwald pointed out.

Tino grinned and took a step back. "And you really can't see close up. I was holding up four when I got closer to you. But I was trying to trick you. You're right though. I was holding two when I went far away. So, do you only see blobs and colours close up?" he continued, sitting down next to Berwald. Berwald nodded. Yep, this one talked just as much as Mathias. Why did Berwald always end up with the talkative ones? But at least it seemed as though the boy was warming up to him. He wondered how much that had to do with the coming of the Dominican Order and Swedish immigrants. He felt slightly bad. It was not entirely his fault if his people influenced Tino so, but he felt as though he was winning Tino's love and approval through cheating. But as he looked to Tino's smiling face, he realised that he didn't care too much about why Tino was being nicer.

He was just glad Tino was.

"Wait!" Tino exclaimed, jumping up, "let me see how close up you can see." Slowly, he started to move back. "Tell me when you can see my fingers clearly—without squinting!" he added, warningly. Normally, Berwald would have been annoyed—Mathias had teased him endlessly about his eyesight—but with Tino it was different. It was just cute. So he played along. Tino was only about a foot away from him when the image of his fingers cleared, and Berwald announced, "Three."

Tino grinned and pushed his hair back behind his ear. "Yep!" He ran back to Berwald and laid down in such a way that his head was resting on Berwald's leg. "Can we go to sleep, now?" Tino asked, yawning.

Berwald nodded, gave Tino a moment to move his head, and then lay down next to him. Tino snuggled closer, and pulled a few furs on them. Gosh, Berwald was warm, thought Tino. Then something occurred to him. "Hei," Tino murmured, "you never... told me your name."

Berwald's lips twitched. He was wondering when Tino would ask that. "Berwald."

"Hm, hyvää yötä, then, Berwald," Tino yawned.

Berwald drew his eyebrows together. Was that Tino's language? He touched Tino's blond hair gently, but the boy did not move. Berwald smiled slightly. "God natt, Tino."

* * *

But Tino was not asleep. How could he sleep when his emotions were nothing a ball of confusion? He had never, never, never been so kind and playful to someone in his life! Why? Why him? Why Swe—Berwald? Was it the fact that Sweden's—Berwald's—people were coming much more to his land? Was it that Sweden's—Berwald's— religion was beginning to pervade his society? Or was it that Tino himself cared about the Swede? He had to admit that he somewhat respected the Swede for taking it upon himself to fight Novgorod. Even if he sucked at fighting, Tino smirked. Although, Tino's smirk was replaced with a frown at the thought, he did not understand who could and would interrupt a fight between lands to give their own an advantage. But the cowardly bastards had.

Tino's frown deepened as his thoughts drifted to his original problem. In a way, he liked this. He liked having someone to talk to. He liked having someone take care of him, and though he wished Berwald would allow him to fight, he did like having someone to curl up against at night. It was like having a tribe, having someone to rely on.

The fireplace is getting low, he noted. Not that it mattered. Berwald was very warm. Tino snuggled closer. His house had always been empty, lonely, and big. Just him. Just him to live within its wooden walls. But with Berwald there, it felt more right. Like whenever he saw his own people sit down to eat, together as a family. Tino had never known the feeling. He had never depended on anyone before. The only other land he had met had been Novgorod, and they weren't exactly friends. But here was Berwald, sweet Berwald who did not want him to hurt anymore. Berwald who was warm and obviously thought Tino was worth caring for. At the same time, that dependency frightened Tino. He could control his own actions, shape his own future and that gave him some sense of security. If everything depended on him, then he would make it work by adapting. If he added Berwald to the equation, then Tino would be left with nothing but trust to hold onto. And he wasn't quite sure whether or not he could trust the Swede. A small, soft snore interrupted his train of thought, and Tino stifled a laugh and smiled.

He may not have known Berwald for too long or too well, but Berwald had been the first person who treated him well. And so Tino decided that he would not fight it anymore.

Trust might just work for him.

* * *

**Some years later...**

"Why are we so far east?" Tino asked for the fifth time that morning, wincing when his voice cracked. He had begun to grow again. His voice cracked often now and his jawline was becoming more and more pronounced; though, thanks to Berwald's insistence that he eat more often, it was not quite as evident as it could have been. Berwald continued walking and pretended to ignore Tino's question. But from the corner of his eye, Tino swore he saw Berwald's lip twitch. He was learning, slowly, but surely, to read the stoic Swede's facial expressions. A mere lip twitch of Berwald's was the equivalent of one of Tino's grins. So Tino grinned happily, grabbed Berwald's hand, and swung it haphazardly back and forth between them.

Berwald himself had grown. Tino had always been shorter, and, despite his own growth, he still only met with Berwald's chest. Hair was now beginning grow from Berwald's cheeks, hair which he insisted on shaving off, and his voice had become even deeper. Anyone who saw them walking together might have even conjectured that Berwald was his father. A fact that irritated Tino for some reason. Tino was not one to lie. The last few decades had been marvellous, fun, and full of such laughter and joy that Tino wished that they would last forever. For once, he had someone to come home to, someone to care for him when he got sick or injured, someone who was content to listen to him talk, someone who taught him all there was to know. Someone to love. But it was also incredibly frustrating. Berwald treated him like a child, rarely let him do anything difficult, and Tino found himself struggling to do anything but sit around and talk. Still, he realised, as they continued walking through the trees, only breaking apart their hands when a clump of them got in their way, he would not trade this for anything. "Is Sweden like this?" he asked suddenly, breaking their silence. He had yet to go to Sweden, though Berwald often travelled back. He usually brought him back some thing or another that his people had created and accepted whatever trinket Tino had worked on while he was gone. Tino wasn't quite sure if he wanted to visit Sweden, but Berwald also seemed happy to return home, so Tino figured that it must be a special, beautiful place, just like Tino's own land.

"Less lakes, I think," Berwald offered. "Still beautiful, though."

They walked in silence for a few minutes as Tino mulled it over. Less lakes? Were they still there then? Was it just as cold? Could you swim in them, and did they also freeze in the winter? But sounds interrupted his thoughts. Cries sounded through the air, but they were not war cries. They were not angry or distraught, just loud. As they got closer to source, Tino realised that they were being said in a strange language that Tino felt he had heard before, yet he did not understand what the people were saying. The village they were entering was far larger than anything Tino had ever seen before. From a distance, Tino could see that a river flowed through it, fairly smoothly, creating only a soft background noise that reminded Tino of nights that he himself had spent near rivers. But Tino was mostly captivated by the village itself. The houses were larger than those that Tino was used to, but they, too, were built of wood. People, so many people, walked through the dirt between the houses, calling to each other, hurrying along with their large coats; some carried food, others simply ran by, and children laughed as they raced through the streets.

Tino immediately loved it.

"Is this... is this mine?" Tino asked, breathlessly, desperately trying to take it all in.

Berwald's eyes narrowed a bit as he seemed to think it over. Finally, he shook his head slightly. "It's ours," he smiled down at him. Tino beamed. Ours. He liked the sound of that.

They continued to walk down the dirt path, and, suddenly, a feeling of anxiety came over Tino. "Berwald," he tugged on Berwald's sleeve. "Berwald, I don't understand what they are saying! What language are they speaking? I feel like I might have heard it before, but I'm not sure. And that makes me sad because I want to understand what they're saying." He pouted slightly. He truly did. He may not have known them, but the knowledge that they were, in some way, his people made him care. But how could he show that if he could not even understand them! And why weren't they speaking Tino's language?

"They are speaking my language. They were mine. But they have moved here," Berwald explained patiently. He scanned the road ahead. Almost there. Soon, he'd show Tino the reason why he brought him to Åbo.

Tino stopped. "Wait, your language? You didn't tell me you spoke a different language! Why do I understand you then, but not them?"

Berwald tugged on his hand a bit, and they resumed their walk. Berwald shrugged. "Perhaps land just understand each other."

"Berwald," said Tino hesitantly, "can you teach me?"

Berwald looked down at him blankly.

"Your language," Tino clarified. "I want to be able to understand what they are saying."

Berwald shrugged again. "I'll try. Hei, stop." Tino obeyed immediately. Berwald turned to face him and placed his hands on Tino's shoulders. Then he said in a low voice, "I have a surprise for you, but I want you to close your eyes first."

And as he closed his eyes, Tino realised exactly how much he trusted Berwald, how much their relationship had changed. Because a few decades ago, he would have never even walked with the Swede as though they were brothers, much less have closed his eyes in front of him. He smiled at the thought, and began walking wherever Berwald was leading him. They had only been walking for about a minute when Berwald stopped moving and whispered into his ear, "Open."

In front of him, was one of the most beautiful buildings Tino had ever seen. It was made stones, the colours of which ranged from a light mahogany to a deep dark brown that reminded Tino of his—no, their—beloved forest. Though it was missing its roof, the building was taller than anything Tino had ever seen, probably twice the height of Berwald! The doors at the front were made of wood that had been carefully crafted with the image of a cross. Tino took a deep breath and gave Berwald a disbelieving look. "What is this?"

"A cathedral. The first for you, Suomi."

Tino's lip twitched at the mispronunciation. "It's... it is beautiful," said Tino slowly, still disbelieving. Then his shock shattered. "Kiitos. Kiitos paljon!" he exclaimed and hugged Berwald tightly. Berwald returned the hug, and bit his lip, wondering if the feisty boy who had once knocked him into the snow knew what this cathedral meant; and if he did, would he still be happy to see it? Berwald hugged him harder and hoped he did. Because it would have hurt him more than words could have expressed if Tino did not want to be a part of him. Because already, Berwald loved him.

"Jag älskar dig," he mumbled in response. "Jag älskar dig."

* * *

**Historical Notes:**

*In the early 13th century, Birger Jarl the Regent was basically the ruler of Sweden. He led the Second Swedish Crusade (which led the establishment of Swedish rule in Finland) and founded Stockholm, Sweden's capital.

*The Tavastians were a group of Finns (I'm not sure if they were a tribe) who stopped being Christians; they were the reason for the Second Swedish Crusade.

Berwald and Novgorod had been fighting as well since the 12th century. The fact that the Swedes were Catholic and the Novgorodians were Orthodox did not help ease hostilities. It seems that the Swedes sort of stopped caring about Novgorod at some point and moved their focus to Finland. And Finland basically became their new battleground.

13th century is also when a lot of Swedes began moving to Finland, although they mostly stuck to what is now Turku and Åland (south-west Finland). The 13th century was also when the Turku Cathedral (which still exists today) was built; although, it was not consecrated until 1300. Though it is not mentioned in this chapter, the Swedes also built Viborg Castle in western Karelia after obtaining that area of Karelia from Novgorod. Basically, by the end of the 13th century, Sweden could call Finland his.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

This was a bit fluffier than the other two chapters, so yay for that! Berwald and Tino are getting along even if they have complaints about each other. I guess you could say that they are in an early-relationship stage. Moment of honesty: I'm not really sure how they understand each other, though they are most certainly not speaking English. Perhaps nations have their own tongue? Yeah, I think I'll leave it at that.

P.S. If you like Norway, rejoice! He will be coming in the next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3: The First Union

_A/N: Lukas is Norway. Mathias is Denmark_

* * *

**1319**

Lukas stared out the window. The snow had yet to fall. He liked it better that way. Now the forests looked a little bit more like the fjords on his coast. Beautiful. He would have loved to take a walk today, but today was a matter of business.

Oh, well. At least he got to see Berwald again.

His lips twitched at the thought. He hadn't seen the Swede in years, but had heard that he hadn't done too well during the famine. Just like all of them. Lukas sighed. He had grown just fall sick and grow a little weaker. But he supposed that was life for a land. At least, it felt that way. Maybe life was a cycle. Fifty good years, fifty bad. At least the scenery was nice. He had travelled far and wide, all over Europe, and he had yet to find a place as beautiful as his homeland. Of course, he was biased, but one could not deny the beauty of Norway.

His eyes shifted towards the sound of the opening of the large wooden door. Berwald. Lukas' eyebrows lifted slightly. Wow. He looked taller than Mathias—and that was saying something. Lukas turned towards him, suppressing a smile. Berwald saw him and tilted his head forward in acknowledgement. Lukas finally cracked. "Hej," he said, nodding towards Berwald.

"Hej." Berwald joined him at the window. Lukas had been right. The top of Lukas' head barely reached Berwald's nose.

"So, I see you're a giant now. Anything else new? How's it been going with Finlandi? Has he been much of a fighter?" Lukas smirked. He knew how protective Berwald could be and figured that I free spirit like Finlandi would have had to have been dragged to Stockholm. He himself had never met Finlandi, but he had heard about the boy from Berwald; and any land who was brave enough to face Novgorod on his or her own may be a bastard, but they were a fucking brave bastard.

Berwald shrugged. "Like him. Think he likes me."

Lukas blinked at him. "Oh," he remarked, and continued to stare out the window. He doubted it. But Berwald was a stubborn bastard of few words. The fact that Lukas had heard more than two words from the guy was victory enough. Still, Lukas doubted that Finlandi even knew about this meeting. Lukas bit his lip. They were about to be in a union... did he really want to rock the boat now? "Does he know about this?" Lukas finally ventured.

Berwald shook his head.

Lukas sighed. Berwald was still as stubborn as ever. "He doesn't need you to coddle him, Berwald," Lukas sighed.

Berwald narrowed his eyes in irritation. "Not yours. You don't know him. You don't know what he's been through."

Lukas noticed the irritation, but could not help but remark, "Well, if I were in his shoes, I'd like to know what was going on with my land. But whatever. Your call, I suppose. Come on. They're waiting." Lukas gestured towards a door. Berwald gave him another irritated look, but followed him as Lukas walked in.

* * *

**1323**

God, Berwald was happy to be back in Åbo. He was not at a people person at all—he much preferred the silent forests that surrounded Nöteburg—but coming back meant seeing Tino again. And now he would be coming back with good news. He smiled slightly to himself as he walked among the streets. Åbo was growing larger, especially now that Finlandi was being governed from here. And with it, Tino grew. When Berwald had last seen him, some seven years ago, Tino's voice no longer cracked and though his form was still rather feminine, he now looked more like a teen of fifteen than a child of twelve. Berwald had missed him more than he thought he would. But then again, Tino's cheerfulness was what lit up his life now.

He stopped his train of thought as abruptly as he stopped walking.

Why did he keep thinking like this? Tino was not and could not and would never be his lover. Tino was a child compared to him and no matter how absolutely beautiful he was Berwald could never and would never be able to love him. Besides, he thought viciously as he resumed his walk, he would never want you anyway.

Gah! Why was he being so cranky? He nearly rolled his eyes in annoyance. Sometimes, being a land was just awful, and lately, with all the unrest in the government, it was getting worse. But he was almost home. His strides lengthened and his steps quickened at the thought. Almost home. Soon, he left the village, and only a minute later spied their cottage. Just the sight of it made him smile. They had obsessed over it together: Tino had made sure that the stones were all nice shades of brown and grey, and they had worked on the roof for a week until each log was perfectly straight. The door itself was decorated with a dragon and flower, and on its sides were two small gardens, each which their own batch of lily of valley—Tino's favourite flower. He paused at the door: don't you dare be cranky with Tino, he reminded himself. He pushed it open slowly. Tino wasn't one to sleep in, but who know how— Berwald nearly gasped.

"Hei," said Tino. But he wasn't the Tino that Berwald had left. Tino now looked more like a young man, perhaps of seventeen or eighteen winters. His hair had grown slightly longer and now framed his chubby face, like half-closed curtains on a stage. Beautiful violet-blue eyes stared up him, happiness dancing around the pupils. His frame was still smaller than that of Berwald and had a perfect balance between skinny and chubby. A beret now decorated the top of his head, and at his collar was a silver, almost cross-like object.

Berwald swallowed, thankful that his face gave almost nothing away. "Hej," he responded weakly.

"How was Sweden?" Tino smiled at him. "Oh! I've been practising my Swedish!" he exclaimed before Berwald even had a chance to talk. "I was walking around the village, and I got to learn the names of the stuff they sell at the market place! So next time when we cook, we can do it in Swedish! But you should definitely keep teaching me! I don't really how to put sentences together; it makes no sense! And-" Tino paused and blushed. "I'm sorry. You're probably really tired and I'm just babbling. I'll shut up now. I went hunting yesterday, so we can cook if you'd like. Unless you're tired and you just want to sleep..."

Berwald's lip twitched, and Tino instinctively grinned and ran to hug him. Berwald nearly fainted at the display of affection, and noticed, with some strange sense of relief and satisfaction, that Tino had also gotten taller: the top of his head could now collide with Berwald's jaw. "I'm glad your home," the Finn murmured. Berwald did not reply, but merely tightened his arms around him. Fuck it and fuck everyone who thought this was wrong. Because if this feeling was wrong, then Berwald would never have morals. "I'll sleep," he finally responded as Tino let go of him. Tino smiled and gestured to the next room. "I'll work on dinner."

* * *

When Berwald awoke, the sun was barely rising over the horizon. He figured that it must be fairly late in the day; the colder it got, the less high the sun rose in the sky. He blinked a few times, his irritation returning. Why was his eyesight so terrible? For crying out loud, he could barely see his finger— "Morning!" Tino's cheerful tone came as the Finn entered the room. "I'm not sure if you're hungry, but it's still not all that late. Would you prefer to take a walk? It's nice outside..."

Berwald had to restrain himself from narrowing his eyes. He hadn't eat since he left Nöteburg; he was freaking famished. Tradition be screwed;* he wanted food. But Tino had a point. "Walk," Berwald finally responded, standing up. Tino waited patiently at the door as Berwald stretched and finally reached the threshold of the door. "Ready?" Tino said with another smile.

No, Berwald thought sarcastically, I just came to door for no reason. He shook his head and headed out the door, ignoring Tino's confused look.

Tino frowned. Why did Berwald shake his head? Shrugging, the Finn returned the smile to his face and followed Berwald out the door.

Tino had no words to describe his love for the forest. Sure, the city was great and it made him stronger and allowed him to grow more, but the forest... the forest was home. The forest was where he had grown up: it was free and wild and happy and everything that Tino had ever wanted. Though it was late Augustus*, the wind had yet to be as chilly as it normally was although some of the trees had begun to lose their leaves. He wondered why they did that. Whenever it was cold, all he wanted to do was have more layers; but perhaps the trees were different. Maybe they liked the cold touching their branches. Tino hummed merrily to himself as he continued down the path he and Berwald had practically created. "Berwald?" he asked suddenly, turning back to see his companion. "You never did tell me. Where did you go when you went away?"

Berwald had to keep telling his heart to be still. That smile, that slight tilt of the head. Dear God, did Tino not realise how absolutely adorable he was? He was a land for Christ's sake! He shouldn't be feeling like this. "West and East," Berwald finally managed to say.

Tino frowned. "But," he said slowly, "you never go east. I thought we were done with Novgorod. We... well, you, really, haven't been fighting as much as usual. I thought you'd just gone to Sweden." An uneasy feeling grew in Tino's chest. He felt bad for not knowing, but at the same time, a bit of anger coursed through him. Why was he not told these things? After all, Novgorod was on _his_ doorstep, not Berwald's.

Berwald shrugged in response and resumed walking.

"Hei," said Tino sharply, grabbing for Berwald's arm. "I want to know. If it involves Novgorod, it certainly involves me." This was not right. Not here. Not in Tino's perfect, lovely, happy forest. But it needed to happen. Because Tino was no longer a child, and he was getting tired of being treated like one. Berwald had stopped, and Tino loosened his grip slightly. He was not looking for a petty argument, he wanted to say. He was looking for answers.

Berwald inhaled deeply, and said with a small smirk of victory, "You're safe now. Hopefully."

"What?" Tino had certainly not expected that. Safe had never been a word in his vocabulary.

"Treaty."

"About?"

"Borders."

"Wait, what? But," Tino gasped. "But, you didn't even ask me! Where is this freaking border anyway, and why was I not a part of the decision about where this border is?"

Berwald stared at him. Why was Tino angry? Berwald had practically gotten his ass kicked so that Tino could finally have some peace without that bastard looming on his doorstep for the rest of his life. And yet, Tino was looking at him like he was the bad guy? "Sorry," he said, narrowing his eyes in irritation.

"Sorry for what?" Tino snapped. "For letting me in on what's-" Tino cut himself off, turned away, and took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, turning back, but not looking Berwald in the eye. "I overreacted. It's just, I feel like you leave me out of a lot of things, and we've always said that this land is ours... but sometimes I feel like you think it's just yours?" He continued to avoid looking at Berwald and spoke in a soft tone that Berwald had never heard him use before. "I know that sometimes you don't really have a choice in the matter, but you could have at least warned me, or let me know what was going on... I just want to know Berwald. I won't go crazy on you. But they're my people, too, and I want what's best for them."

Berwald nodded, wishing he were better with words. But could words explain how he felt at this point? Because all he knew was that Tino was the most beautiful thing he had ever set his eyes on and he would die for him. Tino was a flower, and Berwald may have been fighting against the weather to keep him protected, but with God as his witness, he was going to keep Tino safe. But how could he keep him safe if he involved him in all of these things? Berwald opened his arms in apology and Tino returned the hug.

I want to know, I want to do, Tino thought as he hugged Berwald, but I just don't know how to tell you that... I've never solved a problem with words; it always my knife. Tino pulled away suddenly and gave Berwald another smile.

But I could never use my knife against you.

**oOooOooOo**

_He felt the ground beneath, hard and cold, but it did not matter, nothing matter, not now. Berwald's chest was nearly touching his. He'd never felt so warm, so alive, so...complete. Berwald's face was only millimetres from his own, and Tino could feel his warm breath tickling him. "Berwald," __he half-breathed, half-moaned. The Swede rewarded him with a small, loving smile, then pressed his lips to Tino's._

Tino woke up startled—again. This was the second time he had dreamed that dream. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment and shame, as he sat up, curling his knees against his torso. Why? Why was he thinking these awful thoughts? First, Berwald was a man...and men weren't supposed to want men that way. Besides, Berwald was, should be more like a brother. Tino bent his head onto his knees. God, if Berwald ever knew. But the worst part was that Tino loved it. He wanted it, and as hard as he tried he could not stop himself from feeling disappointed that it had only been a dream. His face flushed even more. No, Berwald could never know. He stood up from his position against the wall and proceeded to pace around the kitchen.

Berwald had left a few days prior on some urgent business or another. Tino scowled; he didn't even know why Berwald had left. The Swede was still insistent on leaving Tino in the dark and telling him to worry only about his land. Tino leaned his head against the frame of the door. He missed him. Missed having someone to talk to. Berwald did not leave often, and when he did, he made it very clear that he did not wish to leave Tino. But it was becoming more and more often that Berwald left him on his own. Perhaps, perhaps he should move to Stockholm. That was where Berwald's home in Sweden was...right?

Right?

Tino threw his face into his hands in frustration. He hated being kept in the dark, but lately, Berwald had been more and more irritable. The Swede would apologise later and explain that things in his country just weren't going very smoothly, but it still hurt Tino immensely. The one person who had ever bothered to care about him, now rolled his eyes at him and snapped at the slightest provocation. Tears began to burn Tino's eyes.

Why? Why now? Why ever? And how was it that Berwald could make him so happy, yet make him so sad at the same time?

Fuck it. He was going back to sleep.

* * *

**Historical Notes/Explanations:**

** _First: this chapter only covers the beginning of the 14th century. The latter half/two-thirds will be covered in the next chapter. _**

** Berwald's cranky because his government is being stupid. Well, not stupid, but there were a lot of disagreements during this time—especially after the Union between Norway and Sweden. In the 14th century, a three-year-old inherited became both the King of Sweden and the King of Norway, by, respectively, the Convention of Oslo and inheritance. Long story short, Magnus (the kid) lost both crowns before he died and managed to weaken royal influence so much that the Riksdag was created. Riksdag is the Swedish parliament. (There will be more on this next chapter.) **

** Tino wants more freedom not only because, let's face it, it's Tino, but also because the Finns were actually not very dependent on Sweden. Though their was a governor for Finland (who was a Swede), the Finns had their own assemblies (called "ting"). Also, Finns were not slaves or even serfs. They owned their own land and could move if they wanted to. They even had representation in parliament. I don't mean to say that life was lovely; they were still considered to be of a low class and were definitely not held in high esteem. But it wasn't as bad as it was in other places. **

** *For the "tradition be screwed": people didn't normally eat breakfast in the morning during this time period. Apparently, doing so was considered weak. You would only eat breakfast if you were, likely, a peasant and knew you had a lot of work ahead of you. **

** *For the "Augustus": during this time, Sweden and Finland would have still used the Julius calendar, not the Gregorian calendar (which is the one we use today). Either way, it corresponds with the Gregorian calender's August. **

** Also, I do know that I skipped over the Great Famine. If you are reading this for the history side, sorry. I didn't know about it until I was going back to make sure that my dates were all correct...and I sort of just wanted to get this chapter out. If someone really wants me to write about it, I will, but I don't think it's awfully necessary to the plot. Though I may end up going back and writing about it anyway. I'm fairly excited and frustrated for the next chapter: The Black Death is coming! **

* * *

_A/N: So, while I was writing this, I was listening to songs from Eurovision... and I realised that this fic (or my ideas for the characters) are very much like the song "Fairytale." Just an observation. (For my fellow Americans [and anyone else who has no idea what I'm talking about]: Eurovision is song contest in Europe. Basically, countries that want to participate hold their own voting and pick an artist to represent their country. There are semi-finals, and then a final. "Fairytale" was Norway's entry in 2009. It won first place, and, in my opinion, is actually a pretty good song. _

_ And, yes, I'm American. I just spell stuff the British way most of the time. :)_

_ Also, for clarification for those of you who think these characters are sort of ridiculous (which I completely agree with, by the way), keep in mind that Berwald has never taken care of anyone; in his mind, protecting Tino means doing everything for him in an effort to make sure that Tino doesn't get hurt anymore. On Tino's side, no one has ever taken care of Tino before. Berwald is the first person who has even bothered to care about it. Tino does not want to lose Berwald, but at the same time does not appreciate Berwald's over-protective nature. And Tino has never learned to solve an argument with anything but his knife. _

_ So, if character's reactions/actions didn't make sense before, hopefully they do now! :) _

_ Oh, and did anyone like the change in syntax for Norway? I felt that the shorter sentences suited. He doesn't seem like someone who babbles in his head.  
_

_Au revoir!  
_


	4. Chapter 4: The Black Death, Part I

**14th Century: The Black Death, Part I**

**1348:** Tino stared at Berwald, who was sleeping near the fire, an expression of pain on his scarred face. The Swede had returned only a few hours prior to their small cottage, and all Tino had managed to gather was that everything had gone wrong*. Then Berwald had gone to sleep. Tino was worried about him. Every since their talk in the forest, Berwald had been slightly more open about his own government—and nothing he had to say about the matter was particularly uplifting. But on the brightside, Berwald was now teaching him Swedish and had promised to allow Tino to accompany him to Stockholm once Tino got the hang of it. Of course, Berwald wasn't always there, so more and more often Tino travelled to Åbo alone, purposefully speaking in Swedish in an effort to practise. Tino smiled despite his worry.

He had been getting help from a very nice Swedish lady named Linnea, who, by some miracle, was not wealthy or stuck-up and spoke some Finnish*. They had run into each other will picking berries just outside of the village. She had asked him for help to carry some firewood to her home, and fifteen minutes later, Tino found himself munching on some food while she talked about her travels in Sweden and Finlandi. Tino had drunk it all in. He had to admit: Sweden sounded like a very nice place—at least, when there was no famine*. And he could not help but swell with pride when she complimented that Finlandi had some of the beautiful lakes she had ever seen. The day before, he had gathered up the courage to ask her how one said "I love you" in Swedish.

"Jag älskar dig." She had finally responded after teasing him for a good three minutes about who the lucky girl was. But it had been worth it. Tino had not made up his mind, but if the opportunity arose, he would tell Berwald.

"Jag älskar dig," he mumbled to himself, for what must have been the millionth time, practising the pronunciation. He sort of wished that Berwald would take an interest in Finnish, but understood why Berwald wouldn't. Everyone knew that anyone who spoke Finnish was poor and unsightly. But still, it would have been nice for Berwald to show some interest in something of Tino's. That didn't involve land or business, of course.

"Tino," he heard his name murmured and turned immediately. But Berwald was still asleep...

It took a moment for it to click in Tino's mind. Tino blinked a few times. Had...had Berwald really called Tino's name in his sleep? Was he dreaming about him? Tino blushed at the thought. But before he could dissuade himself, Berwald repeated his name again, and Tino blushed harder, a strange feeling of elation spreading through his chest. Stop acting like a little girl, Tino chided himself. But he couldn't help but feel happy.

Presently, he shivered. It was getting colder again. He stole a glance at Berwald's sleeping form. Surely... surely, Berwald wouldn't mind... Oh, fuck it. He scampered to Berwald and pressed himself as close as he could to Berwald's warm body. Berwald shifted, still asleep, and grabbed Tino tightly. Tino grinned widely, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

* * *

When Berwald awoke, he realised two things. One, he was really hungry. Two, and much more importantly, Tino was sleeping next to him. Berwald blinked a few times. Had they slept together to begin with? All he could recall was coming in, spitting out that he did not want to talk about the cuts on his face, and going to sleep near the fire. Tino had said something about food, but if Berwald remembered correctly, the Finn had still been awake. With a blush, he hoped that Tino had fallen asleep soon after he had. When they were children, Mathias would tease Berwald endlessly about how Berwald talked in his sleep.

And Berwald wasn't quite sure how to explain what he had been dreaming about to Tino. He blushed again. He really shouldn't be thinking these things.

Tino stirred and turned to face Berwald, his eyes still somewhat unfocused. Tino blinked sleepily, then smiled and greeted, "Good morning... heh, sorry... it got sort of cold, and I thought you wouldn't mind."

Berwald shook his head. Seriously, how did Tino manage to look so freaking adorable? And how, Berwald thought more darkly, could anyone hurt such a beautiful thing? "Don't mind," he muttered. He detached himself from Tino, stood up, and extended a hand to Tino. Tino took the hand and stood as well. They looked at each other for a few moments, then Tino exclaimed, "Oh! I have something for you, actually! I just didn't get a chance to give it to you last night since you went to sleep so quickly!"

Berwald tilted his head slightly. "No! You're not gonna get it that easily," Tino teased, his insides shaking with a strange mixture of nervousness and elation. "Close your eyes!" Berwald gave him a look, but complied. He felt his arm be grabbed gently, and he was led to what he was fairly sure was the kitchen. "Keep them closed!" Tino reminded him, letting go of his arm. Berwald heard some shuffling and opening and closing. What was it that Tino had gotten? "Ah!" he heard the Finn exclaim. "Finally found it! You can open your eyes now." Berwald did so, and stared at the object in Tino's hand. It looked to be some sort of weird circle-like object with a mirror in it. But rather than seeing a reflection, Berwald could see right through it.

Tino shook it in his hand a bit, grinning widely. "I found it in the marketplace a few days ago. There were some traders from the far south, some place called... called Ven...Venice, I think...Anyway, he said that they made them there and that they will help people see better. So I automatically thought of you. I think they might be able to help you. When I looked through them, everything looked a bit smaller and blurry, but the guy said that that was normal. Apparently, if you can't see stuff up close, these things will help. So maybe they'll help you?"

Berwald took the strange object from Tino's hands. Skeptically, he brought them close to his face. Tino's face jumped into view, only an inch away. Berwald's heart pounded. Tino was close enough to kiss. "Can you see me?" Tino said excitedly, not having noticed Berwald's dilemma.

You could, a small voice in Berwald's head whispered. Berwald tore his gaze away. "Yeah," he said hurriedly, turning away. "Can see ya now." Tino's grin widened; he doesn't even suspect, not for a moment, a voice within Berwald cried. Not even for a moment does he guess what you were thinking!

Tino's grin faded, and the joy in his eyes was quickly replaced with worry. "Berwald... are you alright? I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have been to energetic in the mornings. I know you don't like them as much...And you're probably hungry aren't you? You didn't eat last night..." Tino faltered at the sight of the small smile that suddenly appeared on Berwald's face.

And that was why Berwald loved him. Loved him for being so stubborn, so happy, and always trying to turn the tables. Someone who would never stop taking care of him, but would always need someone there for them. Someone who deserved that type of care, unconditional and forever love. And Tino was the paragon of someone like that.

"Nothing," Berwald managed. Because why bother with spoken words when emotions were so much greater and truer—and had absolutely no chance of being openly rejected.

Tino pouted. "Oh, come on, Ber! It's not fair. You were looking all upset just a second ago and now you're smiling, and you won't tell me why! Come on, please!" Tino gave him the best puppy eyes he could muster, making sure to tilt his head slightly down, but to look up with his eyes at the same time.

How on earth did a grown man manage to look like a child, Berwald wondered, his mind scrambling desperately for some excuse. "Just remembering something," Berwald muttered. "Can you get something ready?"

Tino narrowed his eyes playfully, deepened his pout, then grinned again and saluted: "Coming right up!"

**oOooOooOo**

**1350:** The end of the world came in a small note. A sheet of paper, folded four times, wrapped with a small piece of rope. Berwald could recall it perfectly. And he hoped, he prayed that the worst case scenario would not occur.

He had gotten the note from a young Norwegian man, who explained that his master, Lukas, had asked him to bring it to Berwald, only a few days prior.

But ever since then the note was all he could think about.

Tino had been asleep when he opened it. Unfolding it once, twice, three, and a final fourth time. He could picture it even now. Lukas' elegant writing. And the words. Those stupid, cursed words that could mean the end of everything.

And yet, that did not stop them from repeating themselves in his mind.

_I am truly sorry. My people have brought some disease from the mainland, and they are dying. As hard as I have tried, I can make no restrictions on their passage to your land. This sickness is like nothing I have ever seen...I know no cure and neither does Mathias.  
But we are both sick. Mathias can no longer leave his chamber, and I fear that I will soon be in the same position. Berwald, I know our split did not end to well, but know that I and Mathias do care for you. And if, God willing, we leave this alive, we truly should act more like brothers. For we are, Berwald.  
All my love and apologies,  
Lukas_

Berwald had crumpled up the note, thrown it into the fire, and not slept the entire night.

And he did not tell Tino.

**oOooOooOo**

**Three years later...**

When his head first started hurting, Berwald thought little of it. His royal family seemed to only be losing power, and his people's discontent with both them and the Church* left many unsettled.

But a quick trip to Stockholm and the beginnings of a cold showed him otherwise.

It seemed that God would not spare them. What Lukas had warned him about three years prior had finally settled in Sweden*.

It wasn't until the winter when Tino began to feel woozy and weak. At first, he thought it a normal reaction. After all, it was winter: everyone had less to eat and as beautiful as it was, snow could also be deadly. So Tino had decided that it was better to just not dwell on it. There were other things that could balance that out. For one, Berwald was staying with him for the winter. Berwald had told him about a month ago that he would not be making a trip to Stockholm because his royal family neither wanted nor needed him there. Tino, of course, was thrilled. Berwald was a good cook, and Tino had progressed enough in his Swedish to be able to have small conversation. A few times, they had even managed to make a dish together only speaking Swedish.

The smile that had been growing on Tino's face faded. Despite his optimism, Tino could not shake off a thought: that there was a different reason for Berwald not returning to Stockholm.

True, Berwald himself was somewhat sick. He actually seemed a bit worse than Tino, what with his constant coughing and ever-present fever. Tino only coughed occasionally, and only gotten a fever once. He had tried to take care of Berwald, but both of them knew that there was not much Tino could do. Berwald's health solely depended on the state of Sweden. All Tino could do was make sure he was comfortable. Berwald, the ever strong Berwald, told him it was alright and that they'd merely been having a shortage food in Sweden. Which admittedly worried Tino for his own health. In Tino's land, Berwald's people were the rich ones. If they didn't have enough to eat, then what were the chances of a Finnish peasant further north? Perhaps that was why he himself was sick, Tino mused, staring out at the rest of the cottage. Why did Berwald have to be so warm and comfortable? And how had Tino gotten by all those years without him?

Tino was now too lazy to get up most mornings and had developed the bad habit of waiting for Berwald to wake up. Although, most days waiting for the Swede to awaken was more practical. There was not much to do in their small home other than clean or talk to each other, and both Tino and Berwald did not always feel well enough to run or walk outside. But today Tino felt a bit better and was rather bored of staying indoors. Perhaps he could convince Berwald to accompany him to Åbo, and they could get some fresh air and maybe find some berries on the way...

Tino turned onto his other side, now facing Berwald. He smiled gently. To anyone else, Berwald would have been utterly terrifying. His strong jaw and sharp features gave him an intimidating look, and his ever-present squint forced him to glare at everything. But to Tino, he was sweet. He was like one of the bears that roamed around the forests, hurting only that which they needed to eat and that which threatened them or those they loved. Tino's smile widened. Just a cuter, human version of one of those bears. "Hei," Tino said softly, shaking Berwald's shoulder.

The Swede's eyes opened slowly and blinked a few times before meeting Tino's eyes. "Hej," Berwald yawned.

Was it weird to be this happy to wake up next to someone, Tino wondered, as he asked, "Do you think we could go into Åbo today? I don't particularly need anything, but a change in scenery would be nice."

Suddenly, Berwald was completely awake. He had been dreading this for quite a while and found that he wasn't quite sure how to dissuade Tino.

"Ber?" Tino questioned after a minute of silence.

Shit. "Not feelin' too good." Berwald closed his eyes and coughed lightly to prove his point. Inward sigh of relief. At least he wasn't completely lying.

"Oh, alright. I'll just go on my own," came Tino's voice.

Berwald's eyes shot open. "No," he said before he could stop himself.

Tino's brow furrowed, then he rolled his eyes though he wasn't really annoyed. "I have my puukko*. No bear is going to eat me on the way, Berwald," Tino joked.

"Tino, no," Berwald said more sternly.

Tino's brow furrowed once more. This wasn't a joke any more. "Why not?" he asked, a bit more tersely.

"Because I said so."

Tino's eyes narrowed. He realised that sometimes he really didn't like Berwald and how ridiculously authoritative he could be. "And?" Tino pressed, ready for an argument.

"I'm not gonna argue," replied Berwald, sensing Tino's mood. He got up.

Tino shrugged. "Fine." He, too, stood up, gave Berwald a long, pointed look, then walked out the door, making sure to slam it. Berwald stood still for a minute, then punched the wall. Why wouldn't Tino listen?

He sighed. But could he do anyway? Drag the stubborn Finn back into the cottage and tie him down? With the state that Berwald was in, Tino could easily overpower him. Regardless, he did not want to fight Tino. Another bout of coughing hit , he staggered to a chair in the dining room and sat, preparing himself for Tino's outrage when he returned.

* * *

Tino hated arguing with Berwald. It always made him feel as though he were being ungrateful and fighting himself and being mean and unfair and—ugh! Stupid Berwald. But Tino just couldn't stand it sometimes, especially when Berwald played the "because I said so" card. Tino was not his goddamn' servant, kid, property, wife, whatever! And while he was certainly grateful for the things that Berwald had done for him, he was not going to be pushed around!

His walking slowed as he calmed himself. So maybe he should have tried talking a bit more...but why would Berwald not want him to come into Åbo? Normally the Swede was happy to see him adjusting to being in a village. Said that Åbo was lot more like Stockholm than Tino's precious forest. So why...? Wait... wasn't it sort of quiet?

Too quiet? Tino frowned. He should be close to the village by now—in fact, there were the first few houses...but there was no sound. Tino's pace quickened until he was almost running. A bout of coughing stopped him before he reached the first house.

But by then, he knew something was terribly wrong.

Because the second house on the right was Linnea's house. And the Swedish woman always had a well-tended garden, winter or not. The silence seemed infinite and instantaneous as Tino, despite his light-headedness, ran to the kind Swedish woman's home. He did not bother to knock, pulling the door open and running in. "_Hej! Hej_! Linnea! Linnea,_är du här_?" Tino shouted. The silence was eerie. This was Åbo. It should not be silent. There should be children running in the streets and vendors yelling for attention and—

"Tino?" came Linnea's voice, followed by a raspy cough.

Tino followed the voice, relief flooding through him. Perhaps she was just ill as well.

And then he saw her.

A pool of blood lay her side. She seemed pale, too pale and her eyes were marked with violet. Her body seemed to quake and her fingers were blackened, nails sunken in. On her arms, swollen parts of skin shook like apples hanging from a tree. Her mouth was ringed with red as though she had been vomiting blood. "Tino," she said again, with a small, almost delirious smile. "_Jag är glad att du kom_."

"Linnea..." He couldn't believe it. It had not been more than two weeks since he last her. She had been perfectly fine then. Glowing, really. How had this happened? How could this happen? Was everyone else like this? Was that why the streets were so quiet? Dread filled Tino's heart. "What happened? What's happening?"

The woman gave him a sad look. "I do not know. Suddenly," she coughed, then continued, "we were all sick. Everyone seems to be dying, and I believe I will be joining them." She coughed harshly and blood fell onto her hands. Tino felt the tears pop from his eyes.

"_Ei_. No," he whispered.

She gave him another sad look. "All things must come to an end, Tino." She coughed again. "But you will do one thing for me, yes?"

And Tino wondered how true that statement was. Would he come to an end someday? He knew she was referring to this sickness wiping them all out, but Tino knew. He knew that for him there was no escape. He would have to watch in person or in dreams as every Finnish woman, man, and child died before he himself died. And suddenly, that scared him more than the thought of not existing himself. "Anything," he whispered. Anything for this lovely woman who had treated him so well without demanding anything in return.

"Tell him."

Tino's eyes widened. Surely... surely she did not know about Berwald? She was certainly not thinking... oh, God, was it that obvious?

She smiled softly at him. "I know, Tino. I have seen him with you, and I know you adore him. Tell him, won't you? What I taught you to say."

Tino found himself nodding as he took a few steps back. He wasn't even sure what he was agreeing to. He just knew that he could not bear this. He continued to nod, but Linnea had already closed her eyes, a peaceful smile on her face. Tino wasn't sure if she was dead—what did dead mean anyway—and he wasn't sure and he just—God, could he really just—and was everyone else like this—the images of her blackened hands and swollen skin—was Stockholm like this?

Stockholm.

Berwald.

Berwald did not return to Stockholm.

Berwald was sick. Tino was sick...

Bile rose through his throat, his emotions affecting his physical state. He vomited over the floor, and Linnea still did not wake. A part of him wanted to touch her, see if she was cold like so many others Tino had seen die. But he could not accept it. This was not happening. And suddenly, as he wiped the bile from his mouth, he realised that he could not deal with this.

He ran.

* * *

_A/N: Yeah, not the end of the Black Death quite yet. Still a bit more to go... except, if I added that last bit the chapter probably would have gotten to about 7k or 8k words and I don't know how you all feel about long chapters. Either way, sort of wanted to get this published. :) _

_ If you don't like OCs, sorry. However, I figured that Tino would/should have some interaction with someone other than Berwald since he's basically not allowed to leave Finland—for now. I think that will change with the coming of the Kalmar Union... but that shouldn't happen until the chapter after next... anteeksi. _

_ Oh, and Berwald is indeed not a morning person. He will be very happy once coffee gets to Scandinavia. But that won't be until much later. _

_ BTW... you all should look up Imagine Dragon's song "Demons." It's a really good song. :) _

* * *

**Swedish:**

_Är du här_ – Are you here?

_Jag är glad att du kom_ – I'm glad you came.

**Finnish:**

_Ei_ – No.

* * *

**Historical Explanations:**

*Magnus, the king that was mentioned in the last chapter who caused the union between Norway and Sweden, went on a crusade against Novgorod (who was still Orthodox)—and failed quite spectacularly. He never attatcked them again.

*If you were Swedish and lived in Finland, generally you were rich. Most everyone who spoke Finnish (which the Swedes didn't really consider a language at this point) was a peasant. As mentioned in the last chapter, though peasants weren't treated horribly, they were not held in high esteem. Tino, of course, still feels some amount of loyalty to them.

*The first eyeglasses were made in Italy in the late 13th century. I'm not sure when they got to Scandinavia though... but, hey, they had already been invented, at least!

*After the Great Famine and all the problems in the Swedish government, the Swedes lost a lot of the confidence they had in the Chruch and their Royal Family. Prayer did nothing to stop the famine, after all.

*Puukko is Finnish for "knife," but these are special. Not in the sense that they do something special, but to get one as a gift is a huge honour. People will spend quite a bit of time carving the hilt and maybe making a special sheath, etc.

Swollen skin, blackened fingers, and coughing up blood were some of the symptoms caused by the Black Death.


	5. Chapter 5: The Black Death, Part II

_A/N: Just as a warning, the first part of this chapter is going to be fairly sad/angsty. The latter part will be sweet. Bear with me. It's the Black Death—I can't exactly sugar-coat it. _

* * *

**14th Century: The Black Death, Part II**

Hours passed before Berwald found Tino curled up against a tree, staring out into the expanse that was his land with blank, unseeing eyes. But Berwald was just glad to have found him. He had had several coughing fits on the way, but thankfully, his ability to feel his way around Finlandi was just as good as it had been a hundred years before. As it had two centuries ago, it did not take him long to find the Finnish land.

Berwald approached the tree nearly hesitantly. So busy had he been simply trying to find Tino, that he hadn't even thought about what he was going to say! Not that preparation would have helped much. Berwald was simply not a talker. Regardless of how Tino would react, Berwald was glad for the chance to sit down. Thanks to the sickness that roamed his land, Berwald could hardly walk anymore without feeling nauseous. It had been through sheer will power that he had managed to the Finn.

Tino seemingly took no notice Berwald's approach, but Berwald now knew better than to underestimate the Finn. The Finn had better hearing than any of the animals in his forest, and quite possibly, eyes in the back of his head. Berwald still said nothing as he approached. He merely sat down next to Tino and waited.

But Tino did not say a word.

How long had Tino been out here, Berwald wondered. The sun had set quite a while ago, and the only light source was the full moon that shone brightly above them. Everything was dark and shadowy. Scary, almost. And it was cold, colder than it had been in a while. Berwald bit his lip, contemplating. Tino had to be cold. Perhaps... Finally, he scooted slightly closer to Tino and pulled his cape around Tino.

"Don't," said Tino immediately, scooting further away from Berwald.

Berwald didn't even care that his offer of warmth had been rejected. At least Tino had finally spoken. "Tino," Berwald pleaded. "Talk to me." Because it was always Tino who spoke, always Tino who made him feel better, always Tino who could convince him that things were better—always. Always Tino who could look at him with those sweet, kind, understanding eyes and make him feel as though he had never done anything wrong.

But when Tino turned to face him, Berwald found no joy, no understanding his eyes. They blazed only with anger. "Why?" Tino spat. "Because you said so?"

Berwald winced. He knew Tino detested the phrase. He really shouldn't have used it. But Berwald stayed silent. He still did not know what he wanted to say. Right now, he just wanted Tino to say something. So Berwald shut his mouth and stared out at the dark forest with him.

Tino didn't take long to crack.

The sniffling started only a minute later. Berwald looked guiltily at Tino, who was rubbing eyes desperately. Tino turned to him, eyes tearing up, his teeth biting his lower lip. "I fucking hate you," Tino sobbed softly. "And I don't even know why, but I think it's for all the wrong reasons. And I want to be able to scream at you, to hurt you the way I have with all the others. But I just can't... I should be mad! I should be furious! You lied to me; you let me think that everything was okay! You don't bother with my language! You leave my people to eat bread with wood in for fuck's sake* while yours dine in houses and sneer at mine! So, why? Damn' it, why? Tell me, why can't I just take my knife and stab you and get it over with? Why is it that despite all the things you do to me I can't leave you?"

Berwald blinked at him, unsure of whether he felt like laughing or crying at Tino's dramatic words. But he couldn't. Because something told him that they came straight from the heart. And they were true. He never had paid much attention to Tino's people; heck, he had decided who were Tino's people without even asking Tino! And while Tino struggled with Swedish, he had never bothered to ask Tino if he would consider teaching him Finnish. Berwald swallowed, feeling as though he deserved every single horrid word the Finn had to throw at him.

And he claimed to love Tino. Idiot.

Berwald suddenly wished he knew how to say he was sorry in Finnish. But he did not know. No, he actually did not know how to say anything in Finnish. Idiot.

Berwald opened his mouth stupidly, but found he had no words to say. Or, at least, none worth saying. So Berwald simply hugged Tino tightly, hoping his actions made up for his lack of words. Surprisingly, Tino hugged him back. Say it, something in Tino's mind told him. Tell him now! But Tino was too lost in the hug, to lost in thinking that he was perhaps the luckiest person in the world. That he could have screamed at Berwald like that and still the man forgave him? For Christ's sake, he practically admitted that he wanted Berwald dead or in extreme pain! Yes, Berwald was an inconsiderate douchebag sometimes, but... but in the end... he, he really did care. And that made Tino hug him all the harder.

Jag älskar dig, Tino practised in his mind. But before Tino could open his mouth, Berwald interrupted him by standing up. "Let's go home," Berwald said, extending his hand to Tino.

Tino could not help but smile and take it. You are such an idiot, the nation part of him screamed; such a fucking lovesick idiot! But Tino won out, and he stood up next to Berwald, still smiling. Then Berwald's grip suddenly slackened as Berwald entered another coughing fit. Tino frowned, resigned, but worried. He wasn't sure if he could handle a repeat of what had happened with Linnea.

It took him a while, but Berwald finally managed to remove his face from his hands.

Blood covered hands.

"Berwald," said Tino, alarmed. "Are—are you alright?" His pitch rose with every word. No. NO. Not like Linnea. He wouldn't be like Linnea—he, he couldn't be like Linnea.

Another coughing fit took hold of him, and when Berwald managed to open his eyes, he felt woozy. The world around him was a blur, as though it were all up close. The moonlight seemed too bright and the forest too dark. "Berwald?" He heard Tino's voice, but it felt... strange. The world beneath him seemed to shake, and Berwald felt himself fall to the ground.

Then the world became dark.

* * *

When Berwald woke up, he realised he was no longer out in the cold. In fact, the bed beneath him felt very, very warm. He blinked sleepily and managed to wonder how long he had been out. How had Tino even gotten him back here any—Tino. He looked around as best he could, but his whole body felt so heavy. The light hurt his eyes, but it was soon blocked by long, slender fingers that felt cool on his forehead. Then Berwald heard Tino's unmistakable gasp of relief and excitement. "You're awake!" Berwald blinked again as Tino removed his fingers and leaned over him. The Finn was grinning at him as though there were no tomorrow. But Berwald almost gasped in shock: Tino looked awful.

His skin was a sickly pale yellow. His cheeks were slightly hollowed out and made the purple beneath his eyes more apparent. The Finn's normally chubby body now seemed thin and worn out. His hair which had always lain perfectly against his forehead now seemed to fall against his skull, lifeless and messy. Berwald did not want to guess when the last time Tino had eaten or slept was.

Then Tino turned away quickly and started coughing. It took him a good minute to finish, but Tino finally looked back to him, grinning again. "I'm so glad you're awake. You were out for such a long time, and I wasn't sure—well, it doesn't matter anymore. You're awake. That's all that counts," Tino finished breathlessly.

But Berwald was not mollified by the Finn's cheerfulness. "What happened to you?" Berwald managed to whisper, despite his aching throat.

Tino's grin faltered. "Um... I haven't really been able to sleep. Can only breath through my mouth, and I keep coughing. Plus, I've been keeping an eye on you, and Åbo isn't a place I'd like to be right now; I was trying to make sure we'd have enough food to last us a while, so I haven't eaten a lot. But since I haven't been feeling all that well and I didn't want to leave your side and so I haven't gone hunting in a while. But I'll go now. You'll need something to eat. And we need more firewood anyway. We're almost out." Tino glanced quickly at the door, then turned his gaze back to Berwald. "You'll be alright?" Tino asked concernedly, as he took a few reluctant steps back towards the door.

"No," Berwald heard himself say. "Stay with me."

Tino blinked at him. "Aren't you hungry?"

"I don't care," Berwald said, struggling to shift his body so that he was facing Tino.

Tino immediately hurried back to Berwald's side. "Hey, hey, don't exert yourself," Tino said, noticing Berwald's struggle. Hesitantly, he raised his hand, then ran it through Berwald's messy hair. God, he'd been wanting to do that for the longest.

"Stay with me, please," Berwald mumbled again, not meeting Tino's eyes.

Tino's heart leapt. Berwald wanted him to stay. Tino looked towards the door again. He needed to hunt though and get firewood...

"At least til I fall asleep again," Berwald pleaded.

Tino smiled gently, removing his hand from Berwald's hair and, feeling braver, moved it to Berwald's cheek. "Okay," Tino finally agreed. He took his hand from Berwald's cheek, and instead gently took Berwald's large hand in his own. "Okay," he whispered again, Berwald sighed contentedly and closed his eyes, too tired to say anything more. It did not take long for Berwald's breathing slowed and deepened, and his hand slowly lost its grip on Tino's. Despite his wan complexion and haggard look, Berwald still looked incredibly handsome to Tino. Tino's stomach growled, and he remembered what he needed to go do. He slowly took his hand from Berwald's, trying his best not to wake him. Tino stood and as he walked towards the door, he thought:

_You have always taken care of me and protected me, and now that the tables have turned, I promise you that I will do the same for you. But not because I feel that I owe you for that. _

_ I do it because I love you. _

* * *

Soon a pattern fell into place. Tino would leave and go hunt when Berwald slept. When Berwald was awake, Tino would sing and talk and try his best to assure Berwald that he, Tino, was alright. But he wasn't—and he knew he wasn't. Only a few weeks after Berwald became bed-ridden, Tino collapsed as he headed towards the door, his legs unable to take his weight anymore. He struggled to lean against the wall and use it to support himself as he tried to stand up. Tears formed in his eyes. He looked towards Berwald.

_Anteeksi_. I am sorry.

There was no point in trying to be strong anymore. He stumbled towards Berwald and lay down next to him. All they could do was wait, hope, and pray that their people would recover.

* * *

Weeks passed with no change.

From their bed, Berwald could see that the fire was almost dead, nothing more than an orange glow. But neither he nor Tino made any move to add more wood.

Did they even have any wood left?

He did not know. He was too busy trying to remember how to breathe. The only thing that gave him consolation was that Tino was marginally better. Occasionally, Tino could even stand. He was the one who usually added more wood to the fire. Berwald took another in another painful breath, then coughed. At least no more blood was coming out with the coughs. He hoped that that meant that it was nearly over. He had not left the bed for weeks. Tino only got up occasionally to put more wood on the fire or fetch them some more snow. Neither he nor Tino had eaten in about a week—or was it more? Berwald didn't even remember anymore. He was too busy trying to breathe. "Fire's getting low," he observed. Not that he really cared. He had ceased to feel the cold a long while back. All he could feel was Tino beside him. And that was all he cared to feel.

"Hm," he heard Tino hum beside him. Then the Finn rolled over and smiled at Berwald with those tired violet eyes. Tino reached over to touch his cheek. They had begun to be more affectionate with each other. Berwald wasn't sure if it meant what Berwald wished it to mean, or if it was just that Tino wanted to know that there was someone still there, someone who understood the numbness that engulfed them. Most of the time, they simply looked at each and touched. Words no longer necessary. It was likely that this was their end. Why not be more affectionate? Why not apologise for all of their previous petty arguments?

Tino broke the silence first. His expression became slightly hesitant, and Berwald did not dread or anticipate what Tino would say. It didn't matter any more. "Berwald," Tino started softly, "Do you... do you think that we'll we live through this?"

Berwald gave no immediate response. He could lie. He could try to console Tino. Tell him that everything would be fine. But that would be lying.

And Tino deserved more than lies. "I don't know."

Tino gave him a genuine smile. "Thank you. Thank you for not lying." They stared each other in the eye, and Berwald realised that he had never seen a more beautiful lilac colour in his life than that of Tino's eyes. He wished he had never lied to those eyes.

"I'm sorry," Berwald blurted out. Tino gave him a slightly confused look. "For before." Berwald coughed violently for a few seconds. "For lying before," he finished weakly. His throat burned.

Tino seemed to consider him for a moment. Then hesitantly, almost in a whisper, Tino said, "Berwald... can I... can I be honest with _you_?"

Berwald blinked. What the hell was that supposed to mean? But Berwald nodded slowly anyway. Tino bit his lip, looking more nervous than ever. "You okay?" Berwald asked, concerned. Tino nodded quickly, and looked Berwald directly in the eye.

"Please don't freak out," Tino mumbled. Please.

Tino leaned in towards Berwald, and less than a second later, Berwald felt Tino's lips against his. He had never realised how soft Tino's skin was. So perfect. But his body froze instinctively, and Tino quickly pulled away, cheeks burning with more than fever, before Berwald could react more favourably. "_Anteeksi_," Tino mumbled, looking away.

"_Nej_," Berwald interrupted quickly. "I..." Berwald wasn't sure what to say. For a moment, they were both silent. "A-again?" Berwald asked timidly, his cheeks burning as much as Tino's. Tino's eyes widened as he his head snapped up to look at Berwald.

"You... you feel the same way?" Tino whispered, hardly daring to believe it. Berwald nodded. Yes, he wanted to scream. Tino felt a smile forming on his lips, his chest felt so light, and he just wanted—he immediately pressed his lips to Berwald again, eagerly now. And Berwald responded just as eagerly. The world was forgotten as they felt their lips collide. Nothing mattered but this. Finally, Tino pulled away, gasping for breath. Both wanted to say how absolutely wonderful that had been, but both knew that those words weren't necessary. They had felt it. Tino smiled widely, no longer feeling the burn of his chapped lips stretching. He burrowed his face into Berwald's chest, sighing contentedly. Berwald wrapped his arms around him. His Tino. His beautiful, lovely Tino.

The fire had died now.

But Berwald was warmer than he had ever been.

* * *

_A/N: Yay! Finally got to the first kiss. It won't be last, I promise. If it was bad, I'm sorry. I'm not very good with romance... But things are going to start looking up for Tino and Berwald, actually. I decided to cut this off here, and just make a separate chapter with the Kalmar Union. I think I'm going to start ignoring time periods and just going off events; though the story will still be in chronological order. _

_ I think Berwald is finally learning that Tino reacts a lot better to "please"s and questions rather than demands... :) _

* * *

**Swedish:** Nej – No

**Finnish: **Anteeksi – Sorry

* * *

**Historical Notes/Explanations:**

*Not kidding about the bread with wood in it. Finnish peasants were so poor that if they did not have enough grain to make bread, they would substitute it with tree bark. The Swedes, of course, were the elite, so they did not (as far as I know) have to resort to that.

The Black Death hit Europe pretty damn' hard. They say that it killed between 75 million and 200 million people. In today's population, that doesn't sound like much, but, of course, the population of Europe was much smaller then. By percentage, it wasn't uncommon for a place to have lost half or more of its population. Norway lost about 60%. England lost about 70%. In Sweden, about half the population died; however, the population taken into account for this figure is the the population that resided within modern-day borders. In other words, I'm not completely sure how many people Finland lost. But I figured that Tino would have been less affected as the Finns were still more spread out than the Swedes. The Black Death affected people who lived in cities more since they lived in such close proximity.


	6. Chapter 6: End of the Black Death

_`A/N: Accept this fluff as an apology for such a depressing story..._

* * *

**14th Century: End of the Black Death**

It seemed that each day they got a bit better. Slowly, it got easier to breathe, then easier to walk around, and little by little, life became what it had once been—except now they were both honest. Though Tino tried his best to make sure that his mind did not stray into absolutely ridiculous, incoherent, unreasonable thoughts like "he's perfect," he found himself thinking them more often than he'd like to admit. Berwald was just so gentle, so kind, so...so something that Tino found himself only able to express his gratitude through touches and kisses and nights spent just simply cuddling next to one another, fire be damned. Who knew that simply holding hands could make him feel so thrilled, so ready just explode. Everything. Every smile, every soft look of pure adoration, of promise for an even better tomorrow made Tino want to sink to his knees and give thanks to every deity that had ever existed for Berwald.

He was happier than he had ever been.

He had been working outside on the garden, planting some True Forget-Me-Nots* when he heard of their impending trip to Sweden. He had figured that Berwald might like them. They complimented the Lily of the Valleys well, and blue seemed to be Berwald's favourite colour; in fact, the flowers were the colour of his Berwald's eyes. Tino had smiled at the thought. His Berwald. Gosh, he was being sentimental. Yes. Quite possibly yes. He was so lost in his thoughts that he had not even heard Berwald sneak up on him.

He just remembered almost crying with laughter. "Berwald, stop!" he laughed, barely able to breathe as Berwald continued to tickle his sides mercilessly. "Berwald!" But Berwald had kept on tickling him until Tino managed to grab a handful of the dirt and smear it across Berwald's face. The Swede had flinched back from the coldness of the mud, but quickly recovered and proceeded to rub it off, push Tino down, and kiss him for a good long minute.

When they had finally broken apart, Berwald had laid down next to him, just as breathless, and said, "You're finally gonna get to come to my home."

Tino had gaped at him in shock. "Sweden?" he had nearly gasped. Berwald had merely nodded. But Tino had gotten up in a flash, and now found himself in this current predicament.

What the hell was he supposed to pack?

From what he had gathered, there was going to be some important meeting between Berwald's so-called brothers, Lukas and Mathias and Berwald himself. Lukas was the personification of the land next to Berwald and was referred to as _Norge_, while Mathias was the personification of a land below Berwald's called _Danmark_. Tino had never met them, but Berwald seemed to have rather fond memories of them; and whoever Berwald liked, Tino would like, so he was sure he would like Mathias and Lukas as well.

Tino bit his lip as he mulled over what he should bring. Nothing too fancy probably. For one, it would be too difficult to carry, and, more than likely, he probably wouldn't need it anyway. Berwald had told him they were going to a place much further south than Stockholm to a castle. It was summer: there was no need to bring a heavy jacket. Finally, he sighed, threw a few tunics and a gown into his bag and called it a done deal. He lifted the bag up, testing its weight. Yep, he could definitely manage that for more than a few hours. Although, knowing Berwald, the Swede would prohibit him from carrying his own pack. Tino smirked, wondering if it would good to dump a rock in his pack just to see how the Swede would deal with the weight.

Wait, had Berwald even packed yet?

Tino stepped out of his room and called, "Berwald! Hei, Berwald! Are you here?" No response. Tino furrowed his brow, then went into Berwald's room. As expected, the room was as neat as could be—but Berwald was not in it. Tino scowled slightly. Lately, the Swede would leave the house for a half hour or an hour and refuse to tell Tino where he had been. Tino had given up a while back trying to get a response from him, and merely left him to his own devices. But with a sigh, Tino saw that Berwald's clothes were all still in the clothes' chest. Tino rolled his eyes, not at all annoyed, but figured, with a small smile, that he could pack for Berwald.

A half hour later, Tino was beginning to worry. Berwald still wasn't back. Tino had finished packing for the Swede a few minutes prior, but now, with nothing to occupy his hands or mind, anxiety was taking over. Maybe...maybe he should feel around... After all, Berwald had been gone for an hour now. What if he was hurt? But maybe he didn't want to be found, Tino debated. If he did, he would have told you where he's been.

Fifteen minutes later, Tino found himself outside the cottage feeling around and nearly crying out in relief when he felt that the Swedish nation was approaching the cottage. "Berwald!" he cried when he saw the Swede. "You scared me!" Tino ran towards him, and Berwald appeared to have mumbled something. After reaching him, Tino cocked his head to the side. "What did you say before?"

"Sorry," Berwald mumbled again. Tino smiled brilliantly at him, hugging him tightly, inhaling his scent.

"You smell nice," Tino commented. "Like trees." He removed his face from Berwald's chest. "I like it," he said, looking up at Berwald. The Swede blushed, but remained silent. And Tino finally noticed that something was off... Berwald seemed... nervous almost. "Ber, are you alright?"

Berwald bit his lip. Come on, he egged himself on. Go for it. Just spit it out. "I...I, uh, have something for ya."

"What?" said Tino, his smile widening as his mind raced to guess what it was? Was it the reason Berwald kept leaving? If so, then Berwald had probably made it himself—Berwald shifted slightly away from Tino and put his hands on Tino's shoulders.

"Tino," Berwald started, "this meeting... s'about becoming a union."

Tino's eyes widened. A Union? But didn't Berwald already have his own king? And didn't Lukas and Mathias have their own as well? Well, perhaps it would be for the better. Tino and Berwald's own union certainly had. Tino smiled. "That's okay," Tino said, shrugging. "I don't mind."

"But I do," Berwald interrupted him. "Tino..." he continued, a bit more shakily, "I love you...and no matter what... that'll never change." Another smile graced Tino's features. Berwald could be so sweet sometimes.

Then Berwald dropped down onto one knee, and Tino froze in shock. Slowly, almost too slowly for Tino to bear, Berwald pulled something from his pocket.

A ring. A carved wooden ring. Berwald gently took Tino's hand, looking up at him, straight in the eye. "Will you... will you take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity*?"

Tino wasn't sure if his heart stopped or if it had begun to pound faster than it should. But he did feel the tears begin to run down his cheeks, as he nodded. It wasn't until Berwald slipped the ring onto his finger, kissed it, and stood, that Tino managed to gasp and throw his arms around the other. "_Rakastan sinua. Rakastan sinua. _I love you," Tino breathed into his ear. Berwald hugged him tighter, accidentally lifting him off the ground. Finally, they broke apart, only to find themselves attached again through their lips. Tino's arms wrapped around Berwald's neck and shoulders, pulling him down until they both collapsed onto the ground. Immediately, Tino flipped himself, so he was on top of Berwald. He didn't know how to express his elation, so he settled for pressing fast, almost desperate kisses to Berwald's lips and letting his lips roam down to Berwald's neck. Suddenly, Tino felt Berwald's hands travelling down his back, touching his waist, then his ass. Tino inhaled sharply, his eyes flying open. He hadn't expected that.

"Sorry," murmured Berwald. "I shouldn't—" Tino quickly silenced him with another kiss that left them both dizzy. Tino shook his head.

"No, it's fine. More than fine, actually," Tino laughed, his voice shaking slightly with nervousness. "Um... we... we should go back... inside, I mean," Tino suggested, hoping his eyes communicated what exactly he meant by that.

Berwald looked at him, almost hopefully. "You sure?"

Tino nodded quickly. "As sure as I am that I love you." Berwald pressed a kiss to Tino's forehead, and in one swift movement, moved Tino off of him, stood, and picked him up bridal style. Tino laughed giddily as he felt the ground disappear beneath him. Sure, he was nervous; he had never done anything like this before in his life. He looked into Berwald's eyes, and found that he was not afraid. Just happy beyond words. Because he was with Berwald.

And because words now failed him, he hoped that, with this, he could show Berwald exactly how much he loved him.

* * *

_A/N: I always felt like Tino would ticklish... I don't know why... _

_ Oh, and a huge thanks to DancingOnRainbow and just-the-narrator for their reviews! They're really encouraging! :D_

_ Also, as a heads-up, updates are going to start slowing down. Maybe to once a week or once every two weeks? I start school fairly soon, so that will slow down my writing tons. I won't stop writing. In fact, one of the reasons I am not going to update as quickly now is so that I get ahead and have something to present to you regardless of my schedule. So if you don't see an update as often as you're used to, that's why. I really do love this story, and I doubt that I will let it go; if, for some insane reason I do, then I will tell you all. _

_ Thanks for reading! _

* * *

**Finnish: **_Rakastan sinua_ – I love you

**Norwegian:** _Norge_ – Norway

**Danish:** _Danmark_ – Denmark

* * *

**Historical Explanations (aka, what's happening while this fluff is going on):**

After the Black Death passes by, Margaret I of Denmark ends up in control of both Denmark and Norway, as she was married to Haakon IV of Norway and Sweden (son of Magnus). After her son and husband passed away, she began the regent of Norway and Denmark. In Sweden, there were clashes between the nobility and King Albert of Mecklenburg. The leaders of the nobility allowed Margaret to become regent over the land that they controlled and promised to help her gain control over the rest of Sweden. When King Albert of Mecklenburg lost power (after being defeated by Danish and Swedish troops), Margaret took control of Sweden as regent. In 1396, her grandnephew, Erik, who was already the King of Norway, assumed the Danish and Swedish thrones, uniting the countries through a common monarch.

However, the Treaty of Kalmar, which made their union official, was not signed until June 17, 1397—but that will be covered in the next chapter!

*Sweden does not have a national flower, but it's regions do. The True Forget-Me-Not is such a flower. It's actually really pretty.

* **"Will you take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity?"** - In the Roman Catholic Church, part of the wedding ceremony includes "take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." During this time, Sweden was a Catholic country; shift to Lutheran happens after the Kalmar Union fails. For various reasons, Berwald cannot actually marry Tino—but that doesn't mean that the ring can't have the same meaning. :D


	7. Chapter 7: Beginning of the Kalmar Union

**Chapter 7: The Kalmar Union**

"Wow," Tino gasped, stopping suddenly at the sight before him. It felt like something from a fairytale: a large castle, with a drawbridge, surrounded by a moat. The castle before them was beautiful with stone of a soft red, almost orange colour. It was so big! They had been able to see it a ways back, but a good chunk of it had been covered by the wall and the hill that surrounded it. Berwald squeezed his hand, looking down at Tino's reaction. He did not say anything and his expression did not change, but Tino could feel that he was happy that Tino liked his land. So Tino squeezed back, and looked up at Berwald. "It...it's beautiful."

"Glad ya like it," Berwald murmured, tugging on Tino's hand slightly before they continued their walk. Berwald had never been so proud of his land before. Just the way Tino stared at everything in awe of its beauty and size made Berwald feel proud to call it theirs.

"Are Mathias and Lukas there yet?" Tino asked, interrupting Berwald's musings. Tino was not sure whether he wanted to hear a yes or a no. On their way to Kalmar Castle, Tino had pestered Berwald with questions about the two. He did not learn much, as Berwald was not much of a talker, but learning that Mathias was slightly insane and Lukas was almost as quiet as Berwald and twice as sarcastic only made Tino more nervous about meeting them.

Berwald nodded in response. Tino took in a semi-deep breath. They're not going to hurt you, he reminded himself. Just calm down. Tino shivered slightly as they passed into the shadow of the castle. He had grown used to the warm weather, so he wore nothing but a simple, light blue tunic. Berwald had not abandoned his long, dark blue cape, which admittedly, Tino was grateful for. It probably weighed about half as much as Tino, but it was incredibly warm and worked well as a blanket. They had not done anything in bed since that first time—the memory of which still warmed Tino's face—but they had continued to sleep together. Berwald had made Tino love the cold even more; the cold was a perfect excuse to get as close to him as physically possible.

At the large door of the castle, a soldier bowed his head in acknowledgement then opened the door for them both. "Master Mathias and Master Lukas are waiting for you in the courtyard. If you take a right, there'll be a door a bit aways that'll lead ya there," the soldier said, directly his words to Berwald and clearly trying to avoid looking at his and Tino's intertwined hands. But his stares were not enough to kill Tino's excitement and nervousness. The former emotion was caused by the fact that though the soldier spoke in Swedish, Tino had understood him perfectly. The latter occurred because now Tino knew that Lukas and Mathias were waiting for them.

Berwald merely nodded at the soldier, who, upon seeing them inside, returned to his position. Berwald seemed to sense Tino's nervousness, and stopped walking long enough to give Tino a reassuring look and another hand squeeze. Tino smiled back at him. "Sorry," Tino apologised. "I'm just a bit nervous about meeting them, you know?"

Berwald lifted a shoulder in response. Frankly, he was not too sure how the other two would react to Tino. Mathias would probably laugh at his small size—oh, Berwald almost hoped he did. He knew what Tino could do with that knife of his... Lukas would probably be much more gracious and composed, and rather indifferent really. It shouldn't be too bad...

Finally, they reached the door that the soldier had told them about, and Berwald pushed it open, allowing Tino to go through first. Tino smiled, walked through, and looked towards the two figures that appeared to be bickering at the stone well.

One was tall, possibly as tall as Berwald, though not quite as intimidating due to his large grin. He was dressed in a large black coat, similar to Berwald's blue coat, and appeared to have a red tunic beneath. His blond hair seemed messy, but, strangely, an organised messy as though the man had messed it up on purpose. Instead of lying flat, it rose at the ends and at the man's forehead. In his hand, the man held a giant battleaxe that put even Berwald's enormous sword to shame. But despite the axe, Tino felt that he was actually quite kind and funny; the man's bright blue eyes suggested a sort of childishness.

The other man seemed to be a polar opposite. He was built more like Tino, though taller, and Tino immediately felt that this man would be a much worse enemy than the tall, bulky man at his side. The short man had blank, indifferent, yet slightly irritated expression. His hair was lay calmly against his skull, lighter than Tino's own. He was... unsettling to say the least. He, too, wore a tunic that reached his knees. Tino had to admit, the blue colour definitely complimented the man's skin.

The tall one saw them first.

"Waldy!" he nearly screamed, his grin somehow managing to grow even bigger, as he began running toward them. The short one turned also, but his expression did not change at the sight of Berwald and Tino. He followed the taller man, though he walked at a normal pace."Long time, no see. How've—oh," the tall one stopped himself, finally noticing Tino and he and Berwald's intertwined hands. "And who's this?" he asked in a much more normal volume, stopping a few feet before Berwald and Tino. His grin had been replaced by a suggestive smile that threatened to break into laughter.

"This is Tino, my-" Berwald's mind froze for a nano second. What was he supposed to refer to Tino as? Land seemed—no, just no. Subject—hell, no. "Wife," Berwald finally blurted. Berwald's cheeks burned, as Tino shot him a mortified look and Mathias doubled over with laughter, clinging onto his battleaxe for support. Even Lukas raised an eyebrow.

Oh, god, what have I done...

Thankfully, Lukas composed himself quickly, stuck out his hand towards Tino with a small lip twitch and said, "It's nice to finally meet you, Österland*."

"Suomi," Tino corrected, accepting the hand. Lukas looked at Berwald questioningly. So, the boy wasn't allowed to come with him to meetings, but he was allowed to use his own name? Interesting, Lukas mused. But even he could see that something had changed between the two, since the last time Berwald and he had been together. "But Tino is just fine," Tino continued with a hesitant smile. What a little ball of sunshine... no wonder Berwald liked him so much. The aforementioned "ball of sunshine" let go of Lukas' hand, and Lukas gestured towards Mathias, who was wiping tears from his eyes.

"If we're using names: the rude idiot is Mathias. I'm Lukas," Lukas responded, looking at Mathias almost derisively.

At the mention of his name, Mathias looked up and grinned at Berwald. "You...you got yourself an interesting looking wife, Waldy," Mathias snorted, his laughter threatening to resurface. Tino blushed heavily, and Berwald gritted his teeth. "Can she cook and clean?" Mathias jeered. It was the last straw for Tino, who leapt and knocked down Mathias. Tino put his arm across Mathias' throat and hissed, "I'm not a girl. Got that?" To his surprise, Mathias merely laughed again, pushed Tino off (aggressively enough for Tino to know that he would not hold back as Berwald often did), and stood up. But he offered Tino his hand as soon as he had and said, eyes twinkling, "Welcome to the family, Tino." Tino stared at him, confused. Was the Dane as insane as Berwald had said he was? Tino's lack of reaction merely prompted another laugh from Mathias who took Tino's hand and pulled him onto his feet, rather roughly. "I like you," Mathias grinned, clapping Tino on the back. "You don't look like much, but I gotta feeling I'd want to have you on my side in a fight. And you don't cheat," he continued, glancing pointedly at Lukas.

"Using your resources isn't cheating," Lukas said, sounding bored.

"Using magic is," Mathias countered.

Lukas sighed and turned to Berwald. "Are you all hungry? Dinner should start in a little bit. Afterwards is the meeting, but, to give you some idea, they say that we will all share the same monarch, but have our separate parliaments. I am not sure how much that will matter, though."

Berwald nodded, taking Tino's hand. "Are you hungry?" Berwald murmured, so only Tino could hear. Tino nodded, still confused about his own thoughts about Mathias and Berwald's earlier title for him. He wasn't a girl... but wasn't he sort of-

Lukas interrupted his musings with, "Well, the washroom is right inside. Third door down. You all can come back out here once you're done. We will show you to the kitchen. We need to continue our talk."

Berwald nodded again, and tugged lightly on Tino's hand. Tino gave them a small smile and followed Berwald back inside. Eh... so long as it made Berwald happy, wife wasn't too bad... unless Mathias decided to tease him about it. Tino's face darkened at the thought.

Back outside: "So, like I was saying," Mathias said loudly, "Battle axes are totally cooler than your stupid trolls. I mean-" Lukas hit him sharply on the arm as soon as the door to inside had shut. "Ow!" Mathias yelped, now massaging his arm.

"You saw that, right?" Lukas asked.

"What?"

"Berwald and Tino."

"Oh, that."

"Yes, that."

"Well, what isn't there to see," Mathias snorted. "Waldy holds his hand twenty-four seven, stares at him like he's some sort of treasure, and calls him his 'wife.'"

"So you aren't completely hopeless," Lukas observed, his expression now pensive.

"What's that supposed to mean!" Mathias protested.

"Watch out for them."

Mathias' brow furrowed. The he gave Lukas an almost disgusted look. "Oh, come on," Mathias said with a serious tone, "Look Berwald might not be the nicest looking guy, but there is now way that he would ever take advantage of someone like Tino. The guy's got morals. And if your deal is what the new religion is saying about guys being together, then just forget it. That sort of shit comes and goes. Because let's be honest," Mathias snorted, trying to hold back giggles, "we both know Waldy would be on top*."

Lukas smacked his arm again, harder this time. "Stop being so crass," he hissed. "I don't have a problem with their relationship... if both of them really are serious. But the last time I spoke to Berwald, about our union, he hadn't even told Tino about it. And I want to make sure that Tino really loves him; what if he just feels pressured to do it? Berwald probably wouldn't even notice. Berwald seems to really care about him, and I don't want him going crazy if Tino doesn't feel the same way, but can't find the words to say it."

"Tino's not Emil, Lukas," Mathias reminded him, serious again. "I think Tino's serious about it. But I know what you mean. I'll talk with them, see what their deal is."

Lukas nodded, ignoring Mathias' earlier comment about Ice. He knew. He knew that Tino wasn't Emil. But in some ways, the two were similar, and if Berwald had yet to learn from Lukas' own mistakes, then he and Tino had no business being together. "_Takk_," Lukas responded.

**oOooOooOo**

Dinner had been an interesting affair. It seemed that Mathias did not know the meaning of the word "shut up;" Lukas did not understand how to be kind; Berwald became even more speechless around them. Or perhaps he did not wish to give them any more ammo against Tino...

But now that they were in the meeting, Tino almost wished it were still dinner. For starters, none of these officials acknowledged him. Even when they asked about him, they directed their questions towards Berwald, who, thankfully, introduced him simply as "Österland." They would merely glance at him. To make matters worse, he could hardly understand what they were talking about. The entire conversation was being held in a mixture of Norwegian, Danish, and Swedish, which were rather similar,* but Tino only understood about half of what was being said.

And it was giving him a headache.

The other three nations, by contrast, hung onto every word. Even Mathias had lost his normally cheerful demeanour and watched the nobles' discussions carefully, occasionally interrupting to make some remark or another. Lukas and Berwald would also speak up occasionally, but it seemed rather clear to Tino that Mathias was the leader of this union. Or at least, Mathias was the most enthusiastic about the idea. But then again, it seemed that the Dane was enthusiastic about everything. Tino stifled a yawn. Seriously, there needed to be some sort of energy beverage in existence. How much longer would this meeting last and how were Mathias, Lukas, and Berwald able to stay awake? Well, they do understand what's being said, Tino reminded himself.

Just as he felt his eyelids beginning to droop, Berwald, Mathias, and Lukas stood up. They walked towards the end of a table. Tino straightened himself up to get a closer look. He couldn't quite make out what it was, but he figured it must be the document that discussed what they had spoken about. Without hesitation, Mathias signed the sheet. Then he turned to Lukas and Berwald, and glanced at Tino, giving him a small, encouraging smile.

Was he supposed to get up there? Tino doubted it. He was technically Berwald's, so probably not. Mathias' booming voice interrupted Tino's thoughts. "Do you, Land of _Norge_ and Land of _Sverige_, accept the terms of this treaty, which state that while we shall be ruled by a common monarch, for now, my monarch, Margaret I, our parliaments shall not be combined."

"I do," Berwald and Lukas replied together.

Mathias allowed himself a small smile. These formalities were ridiculous. But he handed them the small quill pen, and moved away from the table. "Then sign," Mathias finished. Lukas signed first with his beautiful script, and Berwald soon followed, writing with those obnoxiously tiny, but impeccably neat letters of his. Mathias pulled them both into a hug, and when he let go, he proudly announced, "And so we are united under Margaret the I of _Danmark_."

* * *

_A/N: I have no clue how treaties and agreements like that work; all of that was made up—except for what the Treaty was meant to do. No action in this chapter, really, but I hope you enjoyed my intro of Mathias and more on Lukas. Sorry for no Emil (Iceland). He will come in later, though. Also, I'm very sorry if I offended anyone with Mathias' suggestion that religion is stupid. I don't believe that personally. But as I said in the beginning, none of the countries really take religion too seriously. Though that might change during the Reformation period..._

* * *

**Norwegian**: Takk – thanks

Norge – Norway

**Swedish:** Sverige – Sweden

* * *

**Historical Notes/Explanations:**

You really could say that the Danes led this. After all, it was their regent (Margaret I) who made sure that this happened; that's why Mathias is especially taking this so seriously. The Treaty of Kalmar was signed at Kalmar Castle, which was and is in Sweden. However, it was very close to the Danish border during this time period. Also, Margaret did NOT become queen. It was Erik of Pomerania who was crowned king.

*Once Finland became a part of Sweden, the Swedes called that area of Sweden "Österland."

*As everyone knows, Catholic Church is basically opposed to gay sex, etc. (which is why Mathias tells Lukas off). Also, considering that most places and people considered homosexuality to be an illness until the 20th century, I'd guess that a relationship between two males would not have been looked up positively. However, in Viking times, it was okay for two men to have sex so long as you were the one on top. (Fun fact: Norway, Iceland, Denmark, and Sweden all allow same-sex marriage. Finland allows registered partnerships [equivalent to civil unions, I believe]. Didn't the Nordic countries just get a little bit cooler in your book?) :)

*Even today, Swedish, Norwegian, and Danish are mutually intelligible. As I don't speak any of those languages, I can't exactly tell you how so. But I'm guessing that comparing two of those would be like comparing Italian and Spanish; if I'm wrong, please correct me. On the other hand, Finnish has nothing to do with Swedish, Norwegian, or Danish; Finnish isn't even an Indo-European language. So, although Tino has been studying Swedish for quite a bit, he is still rather lost.


	8. Chapter 8: Engelbrekt Rebellion

**Kalmar Union: Margaret I to Erik of Pomerania/Beginning of Engelbrekt Rebellion**

At first, it was wonderful.

Tino quickly discovered that Lukas could actually be quite caring and kind if given the opportunity to do so. Mathias was a child that, despite needing constant scolding (which Lukas was only too happy to give) made life more interesting. Berwald was as sweet as ever. A few days after the Treaty of Kalmar had been signed, Lukas' little brother had arrived. A rather small, pale kid with purple eyes like Tino. His name was Emil. He was quiet—perhaps a bit too quiet for a child—but he was very observant and stubborn.

So Tino was content. Happy, sometimes even.

But complete happiness was unattainable at that moment because once again, he was being treated like a child. Despite their kindness, Tino found himself occasionally irritated with Lukas and Mathias. They simply did not take Tino terribly seriously. They did not treat him badly, but they did seem to expect him to fetch dinner, cook, and do chores. Things an underling, a servant was supposed to do. And despite Berwald's insistence that they leave him be, the Norwegian and the Dane seemed to believe that cooking and cleaning was all Tino was good for.

Tino did not mind the chores too much. But their implications were a different matter altogether.

Worst of all, Mathias would not stop with the wife jokes.

Tino sighed as he looked the greenery before him. Unfortunately for them all, Mathias was also convinced that he was the most amazing person ever and felt the need to prove it at every given opportunity. So that was how Tino and Lukas found themselves sitting at the edge of the courtyard, watching Mathias and Berwald spar with swords. Both of them were very good, and Lukas commented quietly that they used to do it all the time a few centuries ago. "But I never bothered with swords," Lukas said, uncharacteristically talkative.

"Why not?" Tino questioned. It was a bit weird that Lukas was talking so much, but, hey, it meant Tino could get closer to him. Besides, Lukas really was good guy.

"I can use magic," Lukas explained. At Tino's surprised and awed look, his lip twitched. "I can summon trolls or bend elements to suit my needs. It can be tiring, but I know better than to exert myself. Regardless, it usually does not take much to take someone down. Not that I do often."

Tino continued to gape at him for a second. "That's still really cool though!" Tino exclaimed when he found his voice again.

Lukas shrugged, but his lip twitched again.

"Ah-ha!" An exclamation from Mathias made the Finn and the Norwegian return their attention to Berwald and Mathias' sparring. Mathias had Berwald on the ground, his sword only inches from Berwald's throat. Mathias was grinning widely. "Got ya!" The Swede shrugged slightly as Mathias removed his sword. Berwald stood up. "Wanna get your ass kicked again?" Mathias asked eagerly. Berwald looked at Tino, who immediately started giggling at Berwald's annoyed look. Mathias' grin widened. "Or does your wife wanna give it a try?" Berwald whipped back to face Mathias, but before the Swede could do or say anything, Tino interrupted, "Actually, yes."

Tino got up and walked towards them, feeling Lukas' surprised stare boring into his back. Both Berwald and Mathias looked shocked as well. Mathias recovered quickly. "If you say so. Want me to go get you a lighter sword? I think Waldy's weighs as much as you do," Mathias said with a small laugh.

Berwald gritted his teeth, but on the inside, he was thrilled. He knew Tino. And he knew that despite his size and strength, Tino was more than capable of bringing down Mathias. And Berwald would enjoy watching that. He would _pay_ to watch that.

Tino seemed to share the sentiment, as he smiled at Mathias calmly, shook his head, and replied, "I'll be fine without a sword." Mathias furrowed his brow for a second, then shrugged it off.

"Your loss." The Dane took a few steps away from the Finn, eyeing him suspiciously.

Tino smiled sweetly. This was going to be satisfying.

Mathias began to walk slowly towards him. "By the way," the Dane chattered, trying to not show Tino how unnerving that sugary smile of his was, "if I accidentally chop off a body part, it'll regrow." The Dane smirked. "So, loss of anything is okay." At this, he swung his battle axe at the Finn, who dodged easily and gave him another grin.

But Tino knew exactly what he was doing. He had honestly had no plan when he first accepted Mathias' challenge, but Tino was a master at improvisation.

And he now had a very good idea.

He moved himself to the side, making sure to feel how wet the ground was. It had rained the day before. All he needed was to find the best spot possible. Tino jumped back again as Mathias swung again, and his feet touched a small puddle. For a split second, Tino grinned, then stumbled back and fell, making sure to grab at his ankle as he did and make an expression of pain. Mathias snorted and swung the axe down—into a muddy puddle. As Mathias struggled to get it out, Tino leapt onto him, using the momentum to help bring the large Dane down. The Dane's axe came with him, and flew a few feet back. By the time Mathias realised he was on the ground, Tino's knife was at his throat. "What about heads, Mathias? Can we lose that?" Tino cooed, running his knife close enough to Mathias' throat so that Mathias could feel its sharpness, but not be wounded.

Mathias felt his blood run cold. The way Tino was looking at him. As though he would actually do it...

But Mathias was strong and had been in worse positions. He brought up his arms and grabbed Tino's—then gasped sharply as he felt Tino's knee dig into his groin and let go, giving Tino enough time to flip him onto his stomach and pull his arms behind his back. Tino smiled sweetly again. "I don't think so," he whispered into Mathias' ear. The Dane nearly shuddered. "Do I win?"

Mathias growled, trying to lift himself and Tino up. But Tino was heavier and much stronger than Mathias had thought and kept pulling his arms tighter and tighter. Mathias nearly cried out in pain when Tino twisted his wrist. "Well?" Tino said again.

"Stop!" came Lukas' shriek. "Tino, stop you're hurting him!" For once, Lukas actually sounded worried. Good.

But Tino did not let go. "Well, Mathias?"

Mathias snapped, "Yes! Fine, you crazy bastard. You win!"

Tino grinned. "Not so fast. What am I? What's my title?"

Mathias snarled. "Tino! Now get the fuck off!" Tino immediately removed himself from Mathias' back.

"Remember that," said Tino quietly. He turned to return inside, hearing the sounds of Lukas' panicked tone, punctuated with Mathias' disbelief. They had fallen for it. Completely fallen for it. As soon as he was inside and far enough from the windows, Tino cracked up, holding his stomach as his laughter nearly brought him to his knees. That was priceless. Sure, Mathias and Lukas probably think I'm a maniac, but I'd love to see them ask me to wash the dishes or clean their boots again. Tino smirked, then turned in surprise at hearing echoing footsteps. Berwald. Smirking along with him. The Swede wrapped around his arms around the Finnish nation, placing his chin on Tino's shoulder and rewarding him with a small peck on the cheek. When they broke apart, Tino asked mischievously, "Did they really fall for it?"

Berwald's lip twitched. He nodded once, and Tino began to laugh again. Life was good.

**oOooOooOo**

But it did not take long for the storm clouds to settle in.

Mathias had called for a meeting after dinner the day before. The room very nearly matched the feelings of its inhabitants. Dark, save for a few small candles at the centre of an old, but well-made wooden table. The lingering smell of food made them all wish that they were still eating dinner. They were not at all hungry, but meetings were rare; and when they did occur, they often held unpleasant news.

A few minutes prior, Tino had gone up to Emil's bedroom to read him a story before bed. Normally, Lukas would have done so, but Mathias had been insistent, and Tino seemed to enjoy watching over the small nation anyway. So night, instead of relaxing by the fireplace, Berwald and Lukas found themselves sitting at the dinner table, with Mathias at the front of the table. Of course, Mathias would sit himself at the front of the table. But Berwald made no comment on the seating arrangement. He and Lukas had never been ones to wear their hearts on their sleeves, and Berwald was not about to start right now. Mathias accused him of having no emotions or thoughts, but that was far from the case. If anything, Berwald was silent because he had so many thoughts and emotions that would be impossible to put them all into words. Becoming more impatient by the second, Berwald looked at Lukas in the eyes while they waited for Mathias to begin speaking and a silent conversation between the two of them began.

"Do you know what he wants?" Sea green questioned.

"No."

"Will you argue?"

"No." Dark blue answered.

Berwald's lips settled into a firm line as he broke eye contact with Lukas. The Norwegian was beginning to irritate Berwald. He needed to stop following Mathias' lead so damn' easily. Lukas was letting himself be led to starvation if not slaughter. But Berwald would rather die than let Mathias take over this union—especially at the cost of Berwald's own well-being. Their agreement had been equality, and Berwald was not willing to take anything less than that.

Mathias cleared his throat, immediately catching Berwald and Lukas' attention. Elbows on the table, he clasped his hands together, fingers reaching his mouth as though preparing himself to smile. And there it was, as his hands lowered to the table: that arrogant, trademark grin. "So," Mathias started trying to keep his tone nonchalant, "I'm gonna be heading out for the south in a couple days, but figured you all deserved some sort of warning. Because of all the costs of the war—you all know how this goes—we're going to have to raise taxes in your lands." Lukas and Berwald kept their poker faces. No reaction... Mathias now looked directly at Berwald, hoping this wouldn't go badly. "And because the problems are in Schleswig, Pomerania, Holstein, Mecklenburg...well, you're probably not going to be able to export any iron or stuff to the mainland any time soon, Sve*." Berwald's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Shit. This was going to go badly. Berwald was still silent. A good indicator that an argument was brewing in that head of his.

But it was Lukas who broke the tense silence: "So, in other words, we're paying for your mistakes?" Lukas' eyebrow was now raised.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit. He needed at least Lukas on my side..."Well, no," Mathias tried, racking his brain for a good response. "I mean... we're a union, right, Norge? Don't we have an obligation to stick together?" Yes, perfect. Guilt trip. Always worked with Lukas for some reason.

Lukas' eyes moved to look at Berwald. Say something.

"Union doesn't mean kill ourselves, Mathias. Frankly, I think that this war is your problem, and I'm not happy that you are interrupting my trade—my growth and well-being—for land. I for one have not forgotten what it was like to see my people starve. And I would not like to see that again, nor feel that again. Therefore, I would very much appreciate it—_as a member of this union_—if you were to reconsider your plan of action, and suggest that you choose a different path that will not affect myself or Lukas in a negative fashion."

Fuck, Berwald could talk when he wanted to, with his stupid, formal attitude. Mathias gritted his teeth. "I'm not asking you," the Dane snapped, suddenly very authoritative. "But we made a deal, Berwald. My king is in charge; therefore, foreign relations are under Danish control and obey Danish interests*. If you'd like to bitch about it, go to someone else. It's happening...Have a good night." Mathias stood and with a bit too much force, pushed his chair in, then with one last glare, stormed out of the dining room.

Some meeting, Berwald thought contemptuously. No, with Mathias it was never a discussion. Only orders.

For a second, there was silence. Then Lukas stood as well, his chair making an awful scraping noise as it was pushed mercilessly across the floor. "Are you going to fight?" asked the Norwegian, his tone as uninterested as ever, though his stiff posture made it clear that he was not at all indifferent to the situation.

Berwald lifted a shoulder.

"You'll lose."

"Do I have a choice?"

"You could decide to not be an idiot."

"And if my people decide for me?"

Lukas sighed. "_Lykke til_." He walked to the end of the kitchen, and without turning bid his farewell: "_God natt_." He left the room, leaving Berwald alone with his thoughts.

* * *

_"Hey, Sve, Norge... do you all ever think about where we'll be someday?" a small boy with bright blue eyes asked, turning slightly to gaze at his two friends, his loud, sanguine voice echoing through the warm cave. His companions looked towards him. The smaller one with dark, bored eyes was expressionless, but the taller one squinted slightly as though glaring at the bright-eyed boy. Their expression did not perturb the boy who had spoken. He continued, trying to explain, "You know, like, not tomorrow or anything or even a year or two from now, but maybe like a century from now? Or two or three or four?" The last word was nearly breathless. Four centuries. Such a long time. _

_His companions were silent. But Mathias did not mind. Until Lukas punched him or Berwald narrowed his eyes and started speaking really formally, he knew that their silence asked him to continue. _

_"I'd like to go south, ya know? A few years ago, before I met you all, I met this guy. He told me that it wasn't safe to venture this far down south, but you know what I told him?" Mathias paused dramatically, but Berwald and Lukas remained expressionless. Mathias did not lose his good humor and continued, "I told him that it didn't matter to me cause I'm really strong and one day, I'm gonna rule a heck of a lot more land than I do now." Mathias pouted slightly before continuing, remembering. "He smiled a bit at that. He was a really serious guy- even more serious than you, Sve! Maybe he's like your brother or something? Anywho, he just told me to watch myself and not get too big because he said that bad things happen to lands that spread themselves out too much. But I don't think that's true. I think that if you were really powerful and really strong then you wouldn't have to worry about it..." Mathias trailed off, feeling a little self-conscious about what he was going to say next. But Sve, serious and uptight as he was, and Norge, boring and weird as he could be, were best things that had ever happened to him. He had grown up all alone and the day he met them was the best day of his life. "I... I thought about it for a while, and then... I realised that...maybe it's good to be powerful, but maybe...maybe you shouldn't have to bear all the responsibility all by yourself cause that's sort of a drag, right?" He laughed weakly. Lukas and Berwald were still giving him their undivided attention. "So... you know what I think? I think that some day, well, I really hope that someday, we'll all be big and strong together. We could, you know, rule a really big chunk of land together, all three of us and we could all share." Mathias smiled tentatively at them, squirming a bit as he waited for their reaction.  
_

_It seemed to take a moment for the words' meaning to reach Lukas and Berwald. And suddenly, they both smiled at him. Or, rather their lips twitched, which might as well have been a smile from those two. _

_"We'll watch each others' backs, right?" Mathias said, now grinning. "Cause we're bros and nothing's gonna get between us." _

* * *

For better or worse, his people were idiots. But they had every reason to be. Rising taxes and unemployment were never a good mix. He could hear Mathias' angry footsteps. Berwald smiled bitterly. It was time.

A few seconds later, the door was shoved open. "What the hell, Sve!" Mathias screamed, marching towards the unaffected Swede.

Berwald shrugged, making sure not to show any satisfaction at how unhinged the Dane looked. Mathias' fists were clenched at his sides, knuckles white, ready for a punch. His jaw was set angrily and his eyes seemed to burn with that same outrage. His eyes, normally bright blue playful things, now seemed tinged with an angry red.

Berwald's eyes returned to the navy blue fabric of his tunic. Dark blue really was a beautiful colour. It reminded him of night. Peaceful, calm, humbling night.

Of course, the night was a double-edged blade. The peace false; the calm lulled one into a false sense of security, and feeling small did not always result in something positive. "I warned ya," Berwald commented, nonchalantly, still staring at his tunic.

"So you had to go burn down an entire castle to show how pissed off you were?*" Mathias screeched, grabbing Berwald's collar, forcing the Swede to look him in the face. Mathias' own face was now only inches away from Berwald's. Mathias noticed the proximity, let go of the Swedish land, and moved back a few steps. The Dane ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair as though trying to calm himself down. His breaths sounded more like shudders and pants.

"You had t' move the government to Denmark t' prove yer power?" Berwald pointed out, raising an eyebrow slightly. Mathias' lips formed a hard line before he spoke again, this time between teeth:

"That's not the point, _Sweden_. The point is that we cannot afford to have you screw up this union. My king has been treating you fairly, and this is not what you should be repaying him with."

A flare of anger shot through Berwald. Oh, so now I owe something to your fucking king? But Berwald knew better than to let it out. With Mathias, it was a matter of who lost control first. And the first person do so would not be Berwald. Berwald nearly smirked. Considering Mathias' earlier outburst, he was teetering on the edge of losing control. Which was fine. Berwald was willing to wait. But to his surprise, Mathias took a deep breath, putting his hand to his forehead, thumb touching the left side of his forehead while the other fingers touched the right. "Fine, you rebellious douchebag," Mathias finally said, venom evident in his tone. "You can have a meeting with my king and tell him your woes. I suppose you've earned that much.*" He looked Berwald in the eyes and sharply bid him farewell before leaving the room.

The slam of the door seemed to ring in Berwald's ears. Though the peace offering did calm his anger, Mathias' exact phrasing was not lost on Berwald. My king. Berwald scoffed.

Let Mathias keep his king. Berwald just wanted his people to have work again.

**oOooOooOo**

Night had yet to recede. Berwald felt that he had been walking for hours, but the thought did not make him tired. Every step was a step further from that damned house where he was forced to stay now. A prison he had locked himself in the moment he signed that stupid roll of parchment.

But he was finally breaking free.

Despite his intimidating size and demeanour, Berwald was not much of a man of action. He much preferred a conference room with heavy debate to bloody, noisy battlefields. True, he could work with battlefield, but truth be told, though unable to make small talk, Berwald was very, very adept at arguing his point of view when needed—speech impediment be damned. For better or worse, though, those characteristics belonged to Berwald, not Sweden. And right now, Sweden was calling. An unhappy Sweden. A Sweden that two years ago had been promised by Denmark that things would get better. Yet, two years later, they were not.

And that was a problem.

Left, right, left, right. One foot in front of the other, each pace a foot further away from that hell hole. The silence only made him think even more about his and Mathias' conversation in Augustus. _Rebellious douchebag_. He did not consider himself rebellious, but Lukas and Mathias always called him so. As a child, he refused to accompany them west on their travels as Vikings, preferring to go east.* Just pillage stuff—er, no, I'll go trade. And now this rebellion against Denmark.

Well, Lukas and Mathias called it rebellion.

Berwald and Tino referred to it as giving the bastard what he deserved.

Granted, Tino's view was definitely swayed by Berwald. But even Tino was sick of the ever-cheerful Dane. Berwald gritted his teeth as he thought of his departure from Tino, his failure, and hated Mathias all the more for forcing him to do so...

_Sneaking out of his own home was not something he had ever planned on doing. But it was the only way to get to the rebels whom were making their way to Stockholm. Stockholm. He'd longed to see it for so long. He wished for the tenth time that night that it didn't have to be like this. He looked again at Tino's sleeping form, his heart, despite his circumstances, warming at the sight. Tino was still easily the most beautiful thing he had ever set his eyes on, and he wished he could just go lay back down at his side. But it was not to be. _

_ Sweden called. And Berwald could do nothing. _

_ He had not told Tino about this trip, though he had a feeling that the Finn already knew. Tino was good at that. Sensing things. But Berwald knew that if he explicitly told him about this rebellion, Tino would beg him to come along. _

_ Berwald tugged on a thick tunic. Night was cold, even as far south as Copenhagen. _

_ Despite the Finn's insistence, Berwald could not let him. He could not bear to see Tino hurt. Already Tino occasionally had fainting spells and lost his train of thought. Sometimes, his legs would shake just from standing. It hurt Berwald more than Tino could ever understand. To see his lover so weak. So vulnerable. It made Berwald feel as though he had betrayed Tino, and, in all technicality, he had. Had he not agreed to this union, they would not be in this mess. Had his parliament not agreed to raise taxes, then Tino's people would not be suffering as much and neither would Tino. _

_ Berwald pulled his belt around him, then stepped towards the door, wincing when his shoes squeaked against the tile. _

_ He had failed Tino. But he would make this better. For both of them._

_ He opened the door slowly. Tino was such a light sleeper. The smallest amount of light or sound easily awakened the Finn. _

_ He was beginning to congratulate himself as he took his first step out the open door when he __heard Tino's voice call softly, "Berwald? Where are you going?" _

_ He very nearly cursed. Then turned, shutting the door behind him softly. "Got to go to Stockholm. Be back fer ya in a few days." He added the 'hopefully' in his head only. _

_ Tino made a small noise of agreement. For a moment there was silence. "You're going to fight. You won't let me go with you, will you?" Tino asked quietly. There was no anger in his voice or resignation. In fact, it almost did not sound like a question. Berwald shook his head, then remembered that it was likely that Tino could not see him, answered verbally, "No." _

_ A small, soft chuckle came from Tino, then the sound of the Finn sliding off the bed. Even with his glasses, Berwald could see nothing more than an outline of the Finn, who appeared to be reaching underneath his pillow. No. No way. No way Tino would ever- his thoughts were interrupted when the Finn reached him. "I know," Tino whispered, now caressing Berwald's cheek with his free hand. The light seemed to shine from those violet eyes. "But you will take something for me." _

_ Berwald nodded, and his hand Tino placed his own _puukko_, Tino's pride and joy and his choice weapon of defense.__ "I love you," Tino whispered into his ear, barely leaning against his lover's chest to support himself. Berwald felt the Finn's lips on his own and welcomed the contact, brushing his own against them softly. For a second, it could have been any other night. But the feeling of the cold air against his lips instead of Tino's warm skin reminded him of what needed to be done. _

He looked to the sky, the navy blue of night now mixing and mingling with the pink and yellow and orange that the morning had brought along. So beautiful.

He did not have long to go. Soon, he would either find himself being dragged back to Denmark, defeated, or returning easily to pick up his lover.

His fingers softly grazed the _puukko_ at his side. He was glad to have it. It reminded him of his duty. A duty that had nothing to do with being Sweden, and everything to do with being Berwald.

Berwald continued walking.

* * *

_A/N: For those of you who like Mathias... sorry, he's going to be the antagonist. In fact, for the next two or three chapters, most tensions will be caused by him. Blame history. Yeah, Tino sleeps with his knife under his pillow. He loves it that much._

_I never got to go into the Viking Ages, but now that the Nordics are together again I feel that it's necessary to get into Mathias-Berwald-Lukas relationship. I also hope that it humanizes Mathias a bit more. (I tell ya: I really don't like having Den as the antagonist!) Hope you enjoyed little Mathias' adorableness._

_ How countries work in this fic: they sort of have a split personality. They have their own beliefs as people, but are also heavily influenced by the desires of their own people. For example, right now with Mathias and Berwald, both of them are allowing their nation-side to "take over." Mathias and Berwald are fond of each other; Denmark and Sweden are not. Hence, the usage of 'Sweden' and not 'Berwald' when Mathias and Berwald were having their argument. Which is why Berwald says that Mathias is bordering on 'losing control.'_

_This chapter was exactly 5K words long! _

* * *

**Norwegian - **_Lykke til – _good luck

_God natt_ – good night

* * *

**Historical Notes:**

After Margaret died, Eric of Pomerania became king and consequently inherited Denmark's wars on Schleswig, Pomerania, Holstein, and Mecklenburg. Today, all except half of Schleswig, belong to some place other than Denmark: mainly Germany. The wars there practically halted any Swedish exports (mainly iron; watch out for iron. It comes back to bite in WWII). Needless to say, the Swedes were not happy as they were making their living off of this trading. To make matters worse, the Danes also raised taxes (to pay for the war effort) and the Swedes really couldn't do much: part of a king's authority during Kalmar was to dictate foreign policy. If Eric of Pomerania wanted war... there wasn't much a parliament could do to stop him (other than overthrow him, of course).

To make matters worse, the Swedes were already slightly suspicious of the Danes, who had recently centralised the government in Denmark. Sweden sees this as his own personal power being taken away.

And so began the Engelbrekt Rebellion. When Mathias mentions Berwald "burning down a castle," he was not joking. In 1434, a group of peasants and miners (who had good reason to be pissed off) burned down a castle. True, said castle was in Sweden, but it was their way of getting attention—and it worked. Several more castles were also assaulted. A month or a couple of months later, negotiations with King Eric happened—and failed. The Swedes threatened to rebel. Eric of Pomerania managed to lessen the antagonism by promising that things would get better. They didn't, and that is why Berwald is leaving Tino.

*Danes and Norwegians did not settle Finland. They took more of a trip around Europe while the Swedes went into Finland. (That's why Tino had never met Mathias or Lukas before and feels a much stronger connection to Berwald than he does to either Mathias or Lukas.)


	9. Chapter 9: An Alliance Destroyed

**Chapter 9: An Alliance Destroyed, An Alliance Created**

"Tino, Mathias wants to see you."

Tino nearly jumped, startled by Lukas' stiff voice. He had been in the silence of an empty patch of forest just outside their home for hours now after having searched for his precious lilies-of-the-valley. He had found only one and held it carefully against his chest with small piece of cloth, remembering Berwald's warning so many years go about the beautiful flower.* But the most beautiful of things are worth the danger. He had hoped to plant some near their home since Mathias had not been home for the last week and could not stop him. After all, Mathias wouldn't dig them out of the ground once Tino had planted them. He turned to face Lukas, the Norwegian's words finally clicking.

...Mathias wants to see me. Mathias has returned.

And his return could mean the worst or the best of things. But the realistic part of Tino suspected the former.

Clutching his flower even more tightly, he nodded at Lukas and stood, brushing off the dirt that had gotten on his clothes. Pale blue, soft like the sky though the fabric itself was coarse. He silently followed Norwegian through the woods and back to the house. Mathias had left about a week ago, fully intending to crush the rebellion in Sweden. His return meant that either he had lost and was going to tell Tino that he was free to leave...

Or it meant that Berwald had lost, and they were still caged.

Nervously and unconsciously, he began to play with the ring on his finger, twirling it to and fro on the base of his finger. He had promised, not only with that ring but with his words. And Berwald always kept his promises. With some sadness, Tino recalled the night Berwald left. He near prayed that his treasured knife had at least helped Berwald some. At least given him some strength.

The trees began to thin out and at last they reached the door of the cage. The Norwegian clasped the knob, but did not turn it. For a second, Lukas was still, then he turned to Tino, his eyes darting to the ground then back to the Finn. Guilt. He was trying hard not to crack, but the faltering of the Norwegian's mask only made him more nervous. It took a lot to break Lukas, and whatever that "a lot" was, was not something good. Unconsciously, he began twirling the flower in his hand, rubbing it between his fingers, trying hard to keep his own mask of indifference on. Finally, Lukas controlled his expression and spoke, "Don't be worried by what you see...per—perhaps it's all for the best."

A boulder dropped into Tino's stomach. He wanted to stammer out a response, but words left him, and he found himself barely able to nod as Lukas swiftly turned both his body and the knob. The Norwegian pushed the door opened, then gestured for Tino to head inside. Now truly scared, Tino entered and began walking down the corridor. He turned, about to ask Lukas where they were headed, but Lukas still stood at the door. Confused, Tino furrowed his eyebrows and opened his mouth to voice his question. Lukas cut him off, speaking in a clipped manner: "He's in the den. Good luck." More nervous, Tino turned and walked down the hallway, trying to stop himself from running.

As soon as the Finn had turned the corner, Lukas stepped outside, and let out a frustrated scream as he punched the stone wall. He hated Mathias. He hated Mathias for making him do these things. He pulled back his arm, opening and closing his fist. But he hated himself even more for letting Mathias do those things to him. His knuckles were bleeding, the blood creating small streams on his skin, his very bones throbbed. It hurt like hell.

But, God, he deserved it.

* * *

He heard Mathias' laugh before he reached the door. The cruel sound made him run to the door and yank it open.

Berwald was sitting on a chair in centre of the room; Mathias leaning over him. But at the sound of the opening of the door, the Dane stepped back, smirking, and letting Tino see Berwald completely. Tino gasped in horror.

Berwald was covered in a wide variety of scars, cuts, and bruises. His handsome face seemed slightly swollen at the cheek and a long scar ran from the bottom of his temple to the edge of his jaw. His thin lips lay in a grimace of pain; his eyes seemed to be half-shut, half-narrowed in a weary, half-hearted glare that was directed towards Mathias. Berwald's hair was more dishevelled than ever and his general skin tone seemed to have yellowed. His once beautiful royal blue cloak was in tatters.

What had Mathias done to him?

Tino dropped his precious lily-of-the-valley in shock and ran towards the injured Swede, not even noticing that Mathias had stepped back. "Are you alright?" asked Tino frantically, getting on his knees and touching his lover's cheek gently. "How did this happen?" Violet eyes filled with worry looked upon aquamarine for half a second.

Berwald could barely lift his eyes to look at Tino. He was so ashamed. He'd failed. Failed so miserably, too. Unable to look his lover in the face, Berwald directed his gaze at the wooden floor and responded quietly, "We fought. I... lost... 'm sorry."

Tino stood slightly, hugging Berwald tightly and pressing Berwald's injured face to his chest. Anger began bubbling in the pit of his stomach, burning the boulder that had been there before. How dare Mathias do this? What the fucking hell was his problem?! But he restrained himself. Berwald was the priority here. Mathias could wait to get his ass kicked. He let his hand rest in Berwald hair as he pulled slightly away from the Swede, then dipped down to kiss the cut on Berwald's cheek. Swallowing his anger, he moved his lips to Berwald's ear and whispered, "Don't worry. We'll win soon, _kultaseni_."

"Aw," Denmark's jeering sound broke their conversation. Tino turned, eyes blazing with fury. Denmark merely smirked at him. They both knew that Tino could not take him on. Not now. "So, wife, I guess you can actually fill that role, now, huh? 'Cause, I do say so myself, I did quite a number on your husband. Will you bandage his wounds carefully? And with a bunch of little kisses to console this fucking pathetic loser that you claim to love?"

Tino had to stop himself from lunging, but his fists clenched and he crouched instinctively. "Shut up, _Tanska_. Leave," the Finn hissed viciously.

Denmark's smirk only widened. Denmark, fucking stop, please stop, you're hurting them! Mathias winced on the inside, but could not stop himself from saying, "My house, my rules. So, how about you leave?" It was an order.

Tino kept his glare fixed on Denmark for a minute, then straightened up out of his crouch. "Fine," Tino spat. His helplessness only added fuel to the flame. What wouldn't he give to punch Denmark as hard as he could and leave that bastard on the floor screaming in pain! He turned to Berwald, who was still staring at the floor, miserable. His expression softened completely. "Berwald," he tugged on Berwald hand, rubbing soothing circles onto it. "Let's go." Silently, Berwald stood, leaning slightly on Tino for support as they slowly walked to the door. But as Tino's hand turned the knob, Denmark's voice stopped them again. "Oh, Tino?" He couldn't stop now. He needed to break that obnoxious Finn. Break him harder and more thoroughly than he had broken Berwald.

Tino turned, still rather angry, but his anger vanished instantly.

Denmark had Tino's _puukko_ in his hands. The knife that Tino had had since he was a child. The precious knife that had fed and clothed and accompanied him since as far back as Tino could remember. The knife that meant so much to him that he had only capable of parting with it for the only person who he loved even more than his _puukko_. Tino tried his best to hide his expression of worry, but Denmark noticed it easily, smirking again.

"Just so you know. Your little lover boy there nearly got me with this thing. I, being as awesome as I am, managed to take it from him. But then I remembered...This was the knife you pressed against my neck that first time." Denmark smiled. "Well, I just wanted you to see." He turned and walked to the window, opening it up." Tino froze. Denmark turned slightly, his smile wider now. "I wonder just how far..." He pulled his elbow back, knife still in hand—then swung.

"No!" Tino shrieked, finally moving towards the Dane. But it was too late. The knife flew out into the woods below, and Tino knew that it would take a miracle to find it.

"You can go now. That was all I wanted," the Dane said, finally, turning back towards the window. He was no longer smiling. In fact, he looked slightly distressed himself. What had he done?

Tino could feel his heart ripping apart. He wasn't even angry anymore. Just upset beyond words. "You bastard," Tino heard himself whisper, before being pulled outside by an even more ashamed Berwald. The door closed, and Mathias turned his gaze to small, limp flower on the ground. Sighing slightly, he muttered, "I thought you were supposed to represent the return of happiness...But it just doesn't work that way, huh?" And in a moment of heartache, he crushed the small flower against the floor with his shoe, leaving nothing but the smears of chlorophyll and small white petals dotting the floor.

* * *

Tino could not stop crying. He could not stop.

He would not stop. That knife had meant everything to him. It was his shelter, his companion, what had kept him alive for most of his childhood. The sobs racked his body.

Berwald wrapped him in his arms, resisting the urge to cry along with him. He knew how much that knife had meant to Tino. "It's gonna be okay," Berwald whispered in his ear, hugging him tightly. "It's gonna be okay."

How many more promises will you make? How many can you actually keep?

He did not know. But perhaps he was just hoping that words did have power and that if he repeated himself, if he chanted it to the skies, his wishes would come true.

"It's gonna be okay."

**oOooOooOo**

It was a vicious cycle.

Mathias would do something. Berwald reacted. They hurt each other. And all of it just ended up hurting Tino. He could not just excuse Berwald, who seemed to be the one picking fights at this point. Didn't he hear Tino's ragged breath at night? Didn't he see that Tino wasn't shivering from the cold? Didn't he care?

Tino sneezed violently, then wiped at tip of his nose with his wrist. He couldn't remember the last time he had not felt tired. He was standing in front of the mirror, unwilling to go downstairs; the screams and accusations had become background noise to him, and Tino preferred to leave them as such. He looked thin and ragged, even to himself. His hand unconsciously pushed his bangs slightly to the side, and he tried to smile bravely, practising the movement.

It's a day, Tino. It ends. You just wait: one day, you'll look back at this and say you were being a melodramatic fool. It ends. It ends. It ends...

He smiled widely at his reflection.

Because perhaps if he acted like everything was okay, it would be okay and the screams from below would just stop some day and then it would all be okay so just keep smiling because everything will be okay if you make sure that it's okay.

The smiling continued, even as the sound of a breaking window shattered his thoughts.

**oOooOooOo**

Mathias wasn't sure what was wrong with him. Surely... surely it was wrong to do this to a member of his own Union? But Berwald needed to be taught a lesson, and though Mathias was loath to hurt him, Denmark knew that hurting him was the best way to assert his authority over Berwald. Unfortunately for Berwald, Mathias knew exactly what made the other land hurt.

True, Mathias did sort of like Tino; the kid had attitude and all and Mathias respected him for it. But sacrifices needed to be made and the best way to hurt Berwald was to hurt Tino and make sure that Berwald felt helpless about it. The man would die for his lover. The shame in his eyes when he failed Tino or when Tino was the slightest bit uncomfortable was terribly evident.

The door at the front of the room opened.

The Grand Duchy of Moscow was tall as Mathias was but with platinum hair that fell onto his forehead, dark violet eyes,—almost like Tino's—and a thick build that rivalled Berwald's. Mathias nearly shuddered at the Duchy's eerie smile. "_Z__dravstvuyte_. You called for a meeting, _da_?"

"Yes," Mathias confirmed, standing up from his seat. "I have a proposition for you." The Duchy raised an eyebrow, but Mathias continued, unperturbed, "It involves a land to your west, known to my Union as Österland."

The Duchy stared at him silently for a moment, eyes boring into Mathias' very soul. Then the eerie smile returned. "Let us speak in a more... comfortable setting, _da_? After all, _allies_ should be more friendly."

* * *

_A/N: Oh my gosh, this story has gotten over a thousand views. XD You all have no idea how happy that makes me. Thanks to each and every one of you reading this and to all of my reviewers! (I'd say that I'd give each of you a cookie... but even Iggy is a better baker than I am, so I'm not sure that that would be a good idea.) _

* * *

**Finnish:**

**Tanska** - Denmark

**kultaseni –** sweetheart/(insert cute pet name here)

* * *

**Russian:**

**Zdravstvuyte** – Hello (formal)

**Da** - Yes

* * *

**(A lot of) Historical Notes:**

*Lily-of-the-valley is poisonous, so Berwald wouldn't want Tino to actually touch the flower.

As you learned in the last chapter, Sweden was not happy with Danish rule, so they rebelled in what was called the Engelbrekt Rebellion. However, the rebellion failed. There was tension between the rebels. Engelbrekt, the main leader, had the support of the middle and lower classes (the Burghers and the Peasants, respectively). But Karl Knutsson Bonde, a guy who wanted to be leader, had the support of the nobility and the clergy. Luckily for Knutsson, Engelbrekt got sick and was later killed. Also, Stockholm during that time was actually heavily influenced by the Danes and the majority of people in Stockholm still supported Danish rule.

**Just to make this clear: the Swedes were not interested in leaving the Union—at least not at this point. There was still quite a bit of support for a Scandinavian union. The Swedes simply believed that the Danes needed to take into account Swedish interests and stop taking over everything. **

After Engelbrekt, however, the feeling that Sweden should go its own way only grew; the rest of the Kalmar Union can be summarized as Denmark and Sweden fighting for control. The Danish-Swedish conflict, really hurt the Finns. Taxes were high, and the Finns were having a hard time keeping up commerce thanks to the near-constant warfare.

Leaving Scandinavia for a second: while the Kalmar Union is going on, Novgorod (remember him? He was the one attacking Tino in the first couple of chapters) got annexed by the Grand Duchy of Moscow (who is indeed Ivan, as the Grand Duchy will someday become the Tsardom of Russia). Fun fact: the guy who was Duke at the time of Novgorod's annexation was Ivan.

Back to Scandinavia: Because Sweden was so busy fighting Denmark, he sort of left Finland wide open for attack—an opportunity taken gratefully by the Danes and Russians. In 1493, the Grand Duchy of Moscow and Denmark signed a treaty of alliance. Said alliance was founded upon: I'll keep attacking Sweden from the west, and you attack Sweden from the east (Finland); and together, we shall destroy him. Muahahaha! (Well, I think the laugh was left out, but who knows?) :D

What happens as a result? Find out in the next chapter! :D (Or look it up).

* * *

_A/N:_ _I really don't know much about Finnish or Swedish history (and I'd like to know more). I'm a high school student (so no option of taking a class on it, sigh) and my World History class never covered the Nordic countries. So, dear readers (especially those of you who hail from Finland and Sweden) please don't hesitate to correct me if I'm wrong or if a character's reaction is off! I welcome criticism (as long as it's constructive). I say this now because I'm still surprised that I either haven't screwed up somewhere yet, or no one's corrected me. _


	10. Chapter 10: End of the Kalmar Union

_A/N: Sorry, guys, girls, and people in between or outside of those categories. The split was not pretty in history...it's not going to be pretty here. There will be a bit of violence and cursing. _

* * *

**The End of the Kalmar Union**

On a hastily scribbled note, he had written, _I have left the house. Muscovy has attacked my border. Could you send help?_

He remembered this note now as he stood near the border, arms crossed, taking his first five minute break in the last three days when a messenger arrived. A small, relieved smile appeared on his lips. Berwald, ever lovely, ever caring Berwald had come through. His smile only widened as he nodded at the messenger, took the letter, and opened it.

Immediately, his smile vanished. His mind froze. Those...those had to be the wrong words...! His fingers rubbed on the edges of the paper, willing it to disappear. Or at least wipe away those eight ugly words.

_H__eld back by Danish Army. Can't help. Sorry._

Tino bit his lip, willing his mouth to stay closed, anger and bitterness sweeping through him. Taking a deep breath, he re-folded the sheet and stuck it in his pocket. Why? _Why? _But there was no answer to that question. There likely would never be. The hopelessness was creeping up on him. He'd thought... he had been counting on them to be able to help! What was he supposed to do now? He had so few supplies and-

"Sir?" came the voice of the hesitant messenger. God, how he'd missed hearing Finnish!

"Yes?" Tino said, forcing another smile to form on his lips.

"What's wrong?"

Tino sighed, the smile vanishing from his face, an expression of exhaustion and resignation replacing it. "Swedes are caught up in their own war. They...they won't be able to send help." The Finn took in another ragged breath, willing himself not to break down in front of this man. But to Tino's surprise, the man's nose curled slightly at the mention of the Swedes. Then in an angry tone, the man scoffed: "Typical. We pay taxes and they don't even bother to help us fight our war. Don't let it bother you, sir. They're all bastards anyway."

_Wait, what?_ Was this how all of his men thought? Were they all really suffering that much? True, some mornings Tino had to beg himself to even walk, but he had always thought that it was more Mathias' fault than Berwald's. Then again, he had always been rather disconnected from his people. He spent most of his time in Copenhagen or Stockholm, and generally held the same view as Swedes about his own. After all, they were rather poor and uneducated...

But come to think of it... that sort of attitude made sense. And it was sort of Berwald and Mathias' fault that they were like that. How could one not be poor when the government was corrupt, and one needed to be able to communicate in a language that one never had the opportunity to study? How were the Finns supposed to get out of that rut when neither the Swedes nor Danes were willing to help them? In fact, that was more than unfair because the fucking Swedes owed them. The only thing between Ivan being Berwald's friendly neighbour was Tino. And if it weren't for Tino, Berwald would have no defence against the Slav. Yet Berwald couldn't spare some men or supplies or anything to help Tino out? What the hell happened to "I love you" and "I'd do anything for you"? The thought almost made Tino laugh bitterly; he had trouble remembering the last time Berwald had even told him that. even held him.

Nowadays, the only thing Berwald seemed to love was finding ways of ticking Mathias off.

And what did that mean? That Tino and his people would have to put up with it. That Tino on his own. So fine. Fucking fine because I am going to prove to you that I don't fucking need you, thought the Finn viciously. A strange smile suddenly appeared on the Finn's features. He was ready to fight. Ready to protect this place. Fuck Berwald. Cause today, Tino was going to show that fucking Slav who the fuck he was dealing with and prove to Berwald that he didn't goddamn need him. Finland looked at the messenger before him. "Then we'll have to make due on our own. No reply, but do me a favour. I want my men assembled before we go out. I wish to speak with them." The messenger, though quite put off by the strange mood swing, nodded, feeling slightly better about the situation. Clearly, his land would not let them down. He exited and Finland's mind returned to its bloodlust. Ivan would rue the day he ever agreed to attack Finland.

**oOooOooOo**

The borders were re-established. Only a few days later, still coming down from his high, Danish soldiers came in to bring him back. He went quietly. He was too tired to fight anymore. He said nothing when Mathias greeted him with a smile and patted him on the back. "Tino, my man! Shit, dude. I mean, I definitely thought you'd beat Ivan, but I thought it would be a close one, and I tell ya, Ivan looks way worse than you do!" He could have punched him. But he was too tired. So he settled for ignoring the cheerful Dane, walking up the the stairs, pulling open the door to his room, walking in, closing the door behind him, and collapsing on the floor.

**oOooOooOo**

Tino was not sure how long he had slept, but when he woke up he was lying on his bed, perfectly tucked beneath a pretty, blue blanket. He blinked a few times, feeling weak and trying to remember where he was. No sunlight penetrated the curtains; must be late, Tino mused. A lamp lit the room. A gentle, pretty light. Tino lifted his arm and pushed away his bangs. His forehead was warm. How long had he been here?

Suddenly, the door clicked opened, and Tino held his breath.

Then exhaled slowly, as he saw the tall Swedish nation enter the room. Dark blue eyes looked at him, filled with remorse. "_Hej_," Berwald said quietly, approaching the bed slowly. It hurt to walk. But he was learning to live with the pain.

"_Hei_," Tino responded, feeling angry at himself as his heart filled with happiness. He felt like he hadn't seen Berwald in forever. The reaction annoyed the nation part of him to no end; are you going to forgive him so easily, Finland screamed. After all he's done to you, you greet him with a smile?! But Tino smiled kindly, moving slightly to the edge of the bed, and patting the opposite side. Berwald took the cue and sat down, taking Tino's hand into his own. It felt so small and frail. After a moment of silence, Tino asked, "How long was I out?"

"Three days."

Tino's eyes widened. Berwald smiled. He knew how dangerous Tino was. Though he'd been unable to physically help Tino, he could still see through Tino's humans; and when they had gone to make peace, Ivan had not looked well at all. Yet Berwald knew that even if Tino were holding a bloody corpse, Berwald would still think he was the most beautiful creature on the earth. And he's mine. The Swede used his other hand to touch the Finn's forehead. Still warm. The temperature made him scowl slightly. Tino shouldn't still have a fever. Why wasn't he getting better?

"Wow," Tino said finally. He moved slightly, signaling to Berwald to remove his hand, then sat up, and leaned his head on Berwald's shoulder. Wide violet eyes gazed at him lovingly. God, Berwald loved it when Tino did this sort of thing; it was those moments that let him forget all the ugly things in the world. Let him believe that what he did to Tino was okay. Made him feel like less of a monster. The Finn lifted a finger and traced it along the edge of the Swede's jaw. "I missed you," Tino breathed, as he moved his finger to the Swede's arm, tracing circles around his shoulder and down to his hand. It was these moments that reminded him how much he truly loved the Finn. Reminded him of how he needed to fix his wrongdoings.

"Missed ya, too." He leaned down to plant a kiss on Tino's forehead, wrapping an arm around Tino's waist. Tino smiled, content.

A loud growl interrupted their moment. Berwald's lip twitched as he chided himself for not having made Tino something to eat. "Heh," Tino smiled sheepishly, colour rising to his cheeks. "Maybe we could have breakfast...soon?"

Berwald disentagled himself from Tino and got out of bed slowly, trying not to hurt his sore legs too much. He waited patiently as Tino pushed himself to the edge of the bed, then dropped down. A soft smile still lit his features, reminding Berwald, yet again, that he needed to try harder. He needed to keep that smile there. So he hugged Tino tightly, hoping that his apologies would be expressed through the physical even if Berwald found himself incapable of expressing it with words. The Swede placed a gentle kiss on Tino's ear. "Love ya," the Swede whispered. No one ever said that he would stop trying. Tino relaxed in his arms, returning the hug. "I love you, too," the Finn replied, pulling himself slightly away from Berwald's chest so that he could look him in the eye. Then he pulled Berwald into a chaste kiss, and grinned. "Now... How about that breakfast!"

Berwald followed him out. So they couldn't leave the union. So Mathias, his once beloved brother was now a complete prick. So he was unable to protect his lover. But he had him still. Still had him. Still had his sweet, cute Tino who loved him like no other, who forgave him no matter what he did. And perhaps, even if he didn't deserve it, that was all he needed.

**oOooOooOo**

_Whispers were all around him. Whispers of fear and scorn. Pardoned. But the word of the Danish king may mean nothing. He saw the cavern grow dark. What was this? A castle? He could know. A door slammed and he felt the panic rise. The whispers became louder.__  
__And then a scream.__  
__Blood spattered onto the floor. More screams, running echoing across the hallway, another door slam. Screams screams screams blood, everywhere. No, no! Berwald wanted to scream, too, to run, to escape. But he had to watch as one by one heads were lost to swinging swords. The panic rose and prayers were unleashed at no avail.__  
__And then, on the wall. A red flag with a white cross.__  
__Murderer. Murderer!_

Berwald's eyes flew open, his breaths coming in and out as wild pants. He was going to kill Mathias.

**oOooOooOo**

Berwald's breath hitched as he entered the den. How could he? How could that bastard be sitting there, reading stories to Emil as though nothing had happened? This was the last fucking straw.

"Mathias," Berwald hissed.

Mathias looked up from the story book. He grinned. "Oh, hey, Waldy, what's-" He broke, noticing Berwald's furious expression. He turned away. "Emil," Mathias said, much more quietly, "go find your brother. He'll finish reading the story for you tonight. Okay? Berwald and I need to have a chat." Emil gave Berwald a scared look, then turned his nervous gaze back to Mathias. "Go on," Mathias encouraged. Emil bit his lip, but nodded and left the room.

Berwald had enough self-control to wait until the sounds of Emil's footsteps faded. The child did not need to hear this. The child was not guilty. Mathias was. "So, what happened, Waldy? You look upset," said Mathias nonchalantly, but not looking Berwald in the eye. He had never seen Berwald look so unhinged. And though Mathias knew that Berwald had every right to be angry, he had never expected this sort of insane fury that had overtaken the Swede.

"What happened?" Berwald choked. He took a deep breath. "What happened? What happened, _Danmark_, is that an hour ago I threw up because your people came into my capitol and executed my own! I had to watch, Mathias," Berwald stuttered, "watch as my people were murdered*. What the fuck is your problem? Are you so power hungry that you are willing to kill civilians!" Mathias remained silent, toying with piece of cloth at his feet. The sight enraged Berwald even more. "First you start pointless wars with the Holy Roman Empire*, sapping at my strength and not listening to me when I told you, when my people told you to stop!" Berwald was panting. He couldn't remember the last time he had spoken so much, screamed so much. But _Danmark_ was not going to get away with this. How dare he? How dare that fucking bastard just sit there and do nothing! "Say something!" Berwald thundered, after a pause.

Mathias sighed and turned to face Berwald with tired eyes. "What do you want me to say?" Mathias said quietly. "I'm sorry about what happened in Stockholm, Berwald. I really am. I didn't want that to happen. But they revolted, and—"

"So that's your reasoning," Berwald interrupted. "Because they revolted. Because they did not like the way you are taking over this union, you decided to kill them."

"Berwald," Mathias tried to reason, but Berwald interrupted him again.

"Mathias, I am sick of this shit. I am sick of you growing stronger at our expense, and don't tell me that we haven't been growing weaker as you grow stronger. Lukas, Tino, and I! Lukas knows it to, even if he stays silent."

Oh, hell no. Berwald did not just pull Lukas into this. Mathias laughed bitterly, finally looking at Berwald in the eye. "Oh, right. Sorry, I forget. It's wrong for me to attack people that revolted, but it's okay for you to tax people who already dirt poor*. Not to mention that those people are the lifeline of the person you claim to love. Not that it matters. He'll leave you eventually. Or die." The Dane turned his back on Berwald, once again toying with the cloth at his feet.

Something in Berwald snapped. It was just too much. Too much. He wasn't even sure why or what or how but the next thing he knew there was a loud crash and Mathias was on the ground beneath him.

**oOooOooOo**

Tino and Lukas had been putting Emil to bed when they heard the crash. Immediately, they looked at each other and bolted for the door. Tino immediately dashed down the corridor, and Lukas remained at the doorway only long enough to shout at Emil, "Stay here and don't follow us no matter what!" Then he followed Tino.

**oOooOooOo**

Before Berwald could realise what he had done, he had punched Mathias in the face. The Dane winced, but Berwald had not been joking when he claimed to be weaker. The Dane, however, had only gotten stronger. He easily switched their positions. Berwald struggled not to have his arms pinned down. "Bastard," Mathias muttered. "This isn't going to make that stupid boy love you any more? You think you can protect him? You think he won't leave you just like you want to leave us!" In a sudden burst of strength, Berwald freed one of his hands and slugged Mathias in the stomach. He didn't care anymore. He just wanted to hurt Mathias, to hurt him physically like Mathias was hurting him emotionally.

**oOooOooOo**

A second crash made Lukas and Tino run faster. Tino reached the door first, yanked it open, and gasped at the sight before him. Mathias had Berwald pushed up against a wall. Berwald struggling to get free, and Mathias managed to nail him in the stomach without losing his grip. "Berwald!" Tino screamed. The Finn tried to run to them, but Lukas grabbed him around the waist, pulling him back.

"Tino, stop! You'll only hurt yourself!" Lukas panted, trying to restrain Tino. Tino ignored him, trying his best to get Lukas' hands off of him. "You idiot!" Lukas screamed when Tino jabbed his elbow against Lukas' stomach. He was about to get to the door when it closed shut and something pushed Tino to the floor. The Finn got up immediately and tried to push it open at no avail. Tino turned. "What the fuck, Lukas?!"

"I'm not letting you go in there," Lukas said firmly, staring down at him.

Tino stared right back. "He's hurting him, Lukas!" He needed to keep himself under control; he needed—

"Berwald is hurting Mathias as well." to keep calm. And he needed to get into that room. Tino snorted. "You and I both know that Mathias is a lot stronger than Berwald. Especially now." He stared at Lukas. For once, the Norwegian's expressionless face did not scare him.

"I'm still not letting you in."

"For fuck's sake, Lukas! Stop defending him!," Tino shrieked. "I know you love him, but you have to admit that this union has hurt you to—don't deny it!" Berwald didn't stand a chance. Not with the state he was in. Tino just had to crack Lukas; he knew Lukas was using his magic but magic required concentration and Tino would not let Lukas concentrate. "But just because you love him doesn't mean that you should let him hurt you either," Tino continued.

Lukas gritted his teeth. "I. Don't. Love. Mathias."

Tino laughed hysterically. He was succeeding. Lukas was breaking. "Don't deny it, Lukas," Tino said warningly. "I've seen you. The way you look at him and roll your eyes and pretend you don't care—" his pitch rose with every word, "—when he ignores you. But you do-"

"Tino, shut up!" Lukas heard himself shriek, as he slapped the Finn, making Tino stumble back. Tino held his aching cheek, staring at Lukas with hate-filled eyes. Lukas' were only wide and fearful. Tino straightened up, jaw clenched. "I'm," Lukas stuttered. "I'm so sorry. I-"

Lukas' apology was broken by another crash from inside. Shit, Tino thought. Would Berwald be okay?

"Lukas?" a small voice piped up from the stairs. Emil. "Lukas, I heard you yell."

Lukas turned. It took every ounce of his willpower not to scream at his little brother. "Emil, sweetie, please go back up to bed. Everything's fine. We're just having a conversation between adults." His voice was nearly breaking. He was breaking.

The door slammed open. Berwald rushed out, blood running from his temple, hands shaking. "Fine then!" they heard Mathias' shriek from inside. "Leave! But he'll leave you, too, one day! You just fucking wait!"

"Berwald, what-" Tino yelped as Berwald grabbed him his wrist and pulled him close.

"I love you," Berwald mumbled, before pulling him into a hard, but passionate kiss.

"Berwald, what's-"

The Swede grabbed Tino's hand. "I promise: I'll come back for you." He turned immediately and nearly ran out the door.

Emil began to whimper. Lukas hurried to his side. "Hush, Emil. Don't cry," Lukas murmured, holding him tightly. Mathias entered the room. The Dane's right eye was beginning to turn a sickly shade of purple, and he was limping slightly. Tino simply stared at the door, violet eyes now filled with hurt and disbelief. "Mathias, what happened?" Lukas asked, now holding Emil against his chest so that the boy could not see Mathias.

"Berwald went nuts," responded Mathias, almost in a daze. He was still staring at the door, as though he couldn't believe that Berwald had just left. His shoulders shook. "God...god... it's all my fault," Mathias slumped against the wall, tears running down his cheeks. "Fuck," he cursed softly.

"No, it wasn't," Lukas insisted. Mathias was not at fault. It was Berwald's fault. All fucking Berwald's fault.

Tino finally snapped back into reality. "Yes, it was," he said, voice cracking at the end. He burst into tears and ran down the hall to his room. A few seconds later, the other Scandinavians heard the door slam. Mathias shook his head and looked up at Lukas. "I was being a dick, Lukas. I deserved every hit I got. More, actually...god, I really fucked this up." For once, Lukas had nothing to respond. So he settled for hugging Emil tighter, kissing him on the forehead, and promising him that it would all be okay. But he no longer knew whether he was promising that to Emil, to Mathias, or to himself.

* * *

_A/N: Again, lots of apologies. But, as you will read in the historical notes, the split was not nice in history either. Also, I'm an idiot so at my new semester school, I'm taking Comparative Gov, US Gov, and US History (all AP); if you are in a position to and love history fics, I'd encourage you to take Comparative Gov. It SO INTERESTING. We're studying the UK right now, and I'm really hoping to do a one-shot on Iggy if I have time. XD_

_To my guest reviewer:  
Thanks for reviewing and calming my fears :) I'm guessing you're Finnish or just know quite a bit about Finnish history. Glad to know ya like the split personality thing! :D _

* * *

**Historical Notes/Explanations:**

*In 1495, the Grand Duchy of Moscow (also known as Muscovy) attacked/invaded Finland. They really did hurt a lot of Finland; though, notably, Viipuri (a city that is now a part of Russia, thanks to the Winter War) held out. Fighting was done without much/any Swedish help. Finnish-Swedish nobles in Finland had to deal with the problem with what they had. They made peace in 1497 and went back to the borders established in 1323 (which was talked about in one the first chapters).

*Stockholm bloodbath: Nov. 7 – 9, 1520. It was bad to say the least. A regent of Sweden (Sten Sture) led a group of men who were against Sweden remaining the Kalmar Union. They had imprisoned an archbishop. Christian II, King of Denmark, led a huge army against the Swedish faction, which lost. Once the Danes had taken Stockholm, they executed 80 Swedish nobles for heresy. The executions ended up not stopping with the nobles, and spread even to Finland. Normal civilians were killed. That's why Berwald's upset and Tino is more than ready to join him. Stockholm Bloodbath is sort of considered the last straw in the Swedes' desire to continue to be in the Union. As touched upon in the last chapter, they already had plenty of complaints...

*Mathias is referring to the higher taxes in Finland due to Sweden's quarrels with Denmark. Discussed in depth in earlier chapter.

Berwald does not take Tino with him because Finland was liberated from Danish control some seven months after Sweden got its "independence"(?; not sure if that's the right term...). Yep, Berwald left without Tino at first; but he does keep this promise to get him back. So, go Berwald!

_ I don't think that Denmark ever publicly apologised for Stockholm Bloodbath, but if I remember correctly, the Danes (who were not in the government) actually felt pretty bad about the whole ordeal. So, Mathias, of course, feels guilty. (Again, feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.)_


	11. Chapter 11: Reunion and Reformation

**Chapter 11: Reunion and Reformation**

_**October 31, 1517**_

_ It had seemed like a normal day for the young-looking blond boy who walked down the cobblestone street. The town had yet to fully awaken, but already smoke fled the chimney's of the the bakers and people walked down the street with little more than a "_Guten tag_" and a nod, occasionally yawning. __The boy ignored them all, his eyes were narrowed and focused, a hunter zoning in on its prey. He would not have come out to streets today, especially this early in the morning, but he could feel something stirring within him. A strong, angry, determined emotion building from the nation-side of him. __His short legs walked with purpose past the houses begin to shine a bright orange with the coming daylight. They were small-ish houses, decorated with garden plots and flowers, but humble all the same. __The boy's steps quickened as a tall, grey-stone church came into his view. All Saints' Church._

_ A crowd had gathered around the wooden doors, shouts and barks in angry and surprised German floated down to the street. They chattered amongst each other, their commentary growing louder and louder as each struggled more and more to be heard above the rest. __The boy walked faster, their unrest fueling his. __He could just make out the words:_

Disputatio pro declaratione virtutis indulgentiarum. _Ninety-Five Theses on the Power and Efficacy of Indulgence._

_ A push to the side prevented him from reading more. He stumbled back slightly outside of the centre of the throng. The people were angry. He could feel it. He could feel the tension in his muscles, the screaming in his head prevented him from thinking anything, except that the people were ready to act. And therefore, he was ready to act, and so change was no inevitable. _

_The shouts grow louder and louder. The crowd swelled, and the shouts became chants. Chants that the boy was sure would resonate throughout Europe and reach the man who had caused this. The Pope. They had been quiet for too long. __But at the time, as the boy began to chant with his people, he did not know how right he was. Their cry would resonate throughout Europe, as would that piece of paper. Many would read it. Those who didn't would have it read to them, and those who hadn't had it read to them would hear it through hearsay._

_ Church bells rang, the chants of the people below only adding to the melody. _

**oOooOooOo**

**1523:**

Seven months.

That was how long it had been since Tino had spoken with the other inhabitants of the house. He had left his room only to take walks around the forest and to get water and food. When he passed any of them in the hallways, he pretended that they did not exist. Once, Mathias had tried to apologise, but Tino had walked right by him. Yes, they had been seven months of hatred, followed by resignation, and, finally now, forgiveness. Tino had been so angry at first, and he spent the first month trying to understand his burning tears and the feeling in his chest that made him want to rip his heart out. He had never been so grateful for his nation-side until them. It had been Finland who consoled him. Finland who was practical. Who explained to him patiently that he shouldn't have loved so much because when you love someone so much, you risk too much. You risk being hurt. And when they betray you, that's that feeling. That's what makes you want to rip your heart out.

"Good morning," Tino remarked as he entered the den. The fire was fully ablaze and shone around the walls of the room that had yet to be lit by winter sunlight. Lukas sat with Emil on his lap, reading him a story, as he ran a hand through Emil's odd platinum hair, Lukas' eyes occasionally glancing at Mathias. The Dane sat a few feet away from the fire, cross-legged, staring at the blaze intently. He had not responded to Tino's greeting.

"Morning," Lukas and Emil replied simply. As usual, there was no surprise in either of their voices. Such a simple reply. But Emil at least looked slightly happier when Tino entered the room. Poor kid. They'd never meant to drag him into this, but how do you lie about hating each other when you don't talk to one another and when you do you don't talk, you scream? During the first month, when Emil passed the door with Mathias or Lukas, Tino would hear him ask why Tino did not come out and why Berwald had left them. He had asked why no one was happy anymore. Tino heard them say that they all just needed some time alone and that Berwald would be back soon. By the second month, Emil had stopped asking. Tino remembered that once during the fourth month, Emil had come to his door and asked him if he wanted something. Tino hadn't answered.

Now, Tino made sure to give Emil a small smile. Poor kid. With no specific topic in mind or plan, Tino sat near the fire as well, just watching the element as swerved and shook. Fire was nice. He loved its dance and its warmth. It seemed so... invincible. Well, not invincible. Water could destroy it. So could snow. Whatever. It didn't matter.

"So..." started Tino. The silence was bothering him. He had spent too long in silence. Too long wishing for a chance to do things over again. Too much time in his head. He needed to act. And things were going to be different from now on. "Is anyone hungry? We could make breakfast together... maybe?" He didn't want to tag on that maybe. He wanted to order them. He wanted to make them all be together because the only way that they would understand that they could still get along and that he didn't respect them any less and that he wasn't angry at them anymore and all he wanted was to get them together. But Finland had taught him something during those seven months: you have to play people. You have to know what makes them tick and what makes them smile. What makes them want to listen to you.

Matthias did not look up, but Emil perked up immediately, looking up at Lukas' surprised expression for permission. "Or go for a walk," Tino suggested after a pause, regretting the words instantly. It was freezing outside and the snow likely reached his knees! Although Emil would probably enjoy it. Lukas bit his lip and shot a glance at Matthias, who had not moved. "Um... I suppose we could," Lukas said hesitantly, "cook breakfast, I mean." Emil cracked a small smile and slid down from his brother's lap.

"What are we making?" the Icelander asked, trying hard to mask his eagerness. His lips were twitching into a smile but just as Lukas opened his mouth to respond—

"_We _will be making whatever Tino wants us to make. It is his last breakfast with us after all," Matthias finally spoke, still looking at the fire.

Silence invaded the air again. Tino stared at the back of Matthias's head. Last breakfast...? Wait, what? "Matthias," said Lukas slowly, brows furrowing. "What are you trying to say?"

Could it be? That the feeling... that is was real... that he really had been—

"_Suomi_ has been liberated. Berwald will be coming for him in the evening." Matthias finally turned and gave Tino a small, sad smile. "You're free, Tino. Don't worry about breakfast. Go pack. We'll make sure that it's best breakfast you've had in all your life." Tino just blinked at him, feeling tears of overwhelming happiness drip down his eyelashes. Matthias made a small sound, stood up, and walked over to the teary-eyed Finn. He placed his hands on the Finn's shoulders, sky blue eyes looking into violet pools, and softly said, "I am so sorry. I am so terribly sorry for all that I have done. To both you and Berwald. And I promise you that I will search in the woods for that knife until the end of my time or until I recover it for you." The intensity in his eyes melted away and Tino received another small smile. "Now go pack. We'll call you down when we're done, okay?" He patted Tino's shoulder, then let go.

Tino nodded, almost incoherently, turned and walked out the door.

**oOooOooOo**

He could not stop his hands from trembling or his body from jumping at every sound of footsteps. He regretted eating now; the food felt as though it would jump from his stomach at any moment. So many things he wanted to say to do to be with him and hug him tightly and never let me go and all the differences would Matthias and Berwald argue—no, he needed to stop—oh my, was that

Berwald.

He could see from the window. His Berwald. He ran to the door, not paying attention to Lukas' shout of surprise when Tino bolted past him. The Finn hadn't even bothered to throw on a thicker tunic. The snow was fine. It meant that he was closer to Berwald. The Swede saw him coming and the two ran faster until they collided onto the snow, Tino landing beneath Berwald, cheeks flushed with cold and love and wet with tears of happiness. "I love you," Tino said as soon as he could breathe.

Berwald merely kissed him harshly into silence, not breaking their embrace until they both felt they would lose consciousness if they were to make it last any longer. " I love ya, too," Berwald panted, still out of breath. "Let's go home."

* * *

This new church was sort of... well, different. Well, everything was different nowadays. New church, new leaders, new system of collecting taxes. Not to say that it wasn't gradual. Vasa wasn't a fool. But twenty, thirty, forty years was really nothing to a nation, especially one as old as Tino.

The Finnish nation sighed as he was passed a book of hymns—in Swedish.

The new tax system was especially tough. His people already struggled to get by and adding taxes only worsened matters. True, Tino could not be very angry, as he saw and often now took advantage of what those taxes paid for in Stockholm*; Finland, on the other hand, was not pleased in the least. Still, Tino managed to give Berwald a small smile as they began a short prayer. Well, the Swedes began a short prayer. Tino just sort of mumbled along. No matter how hard he tried he just couldn't stop himself from rolling the stupid "r"s*. Not to mention that he wasn't too used to actually reading Swedish, which was nothing like Finnish and wasn't even phonetic!

He felt Berwald's eyes on him and sent the concerned-looking Swede a small smile, raising his voice to an embarrassed whisper. He hoped he wasn't completely screwing up the words. But he figured that he must have done something right because the small frown on Berwald's face disappeared.

He wasn't quite sure exactly why they switched religions (in his opinion, the old one was fine and really wasn't all that different from the current religion*). Although he had a feeling it had very little do with religion and very much to do with the fact that now Berwald's king owned the old Church's property, which admittedly, didn't make him too happy.

But Tino could hold his tongue. He had no voice now, but that would change with time.

The sounds of the books snapping shut and people saying their goodbyes snapped him out of his thoughts. He stood, too, slightly relieved. Midday meal was next, and Tino was starving. He covered a small yawn as he latched onto Berwald's arm, leaning his head on him slightly. "I'm tired," Tino half-whined, half-smiled. Berwald frowned slightly again and walked slowly towards the door of the church. "Will there not be time for a nap?" asked Tino playfully, trying to get a response out of the Swede. Normally after the church, the day tended to be relaxed, but...

Berwald shook his head. "Sorry. I need to deal with some business."

Tino managed to keep his lips from forming a straight, unhappy line. This was happening more and more often, and he was not pleased with it. He forced a smile and said, extra cheerfully, "Alright then. I guess I'll just go for a walk by myself and then go back home and take a nap."

Berwald nodded and kissed him gently on his forehead. "I love you," the Swede told him. And for once Tino found himself questioning how much that was true.

"I love you, too."

But despite his doubts, he knew that when he said those words, he was as sincere as he had been at the end of the Black Death.

* * *

**(A lot of) Historical Notes:**

On October 31st of 1517, Martin Luther put up his Ninety-Five Theses on the doors of All Saints' Church in Germany. During this time, the majority of Europe had been Catholic (and therefore "controlled" by the Pope). However, the Ninety-Five Theses stated what many believed at the time: that the Catholic Church was full of corruption and, in general, not doing what it was supposed to be doing. The Ninety-Five Theses is regarded as what set off the Protestant Reformation, which ended up taking hold not only in Germany, but also in the Nordic countries as well as England, Scotland, France, and Switzerland. Also, the boy that I mention is the Holy Roman Empire.

The reason that Gustav Vasa decided to go along with Lutheranism was because the Pope did not allow him to put a certain person in a certain position of power. Of course, when the Catholic Church was gotten rid of, then all of the Catholic Church's property in Sweden became the king's property. (An added bonus!) Also, if that doesn't make too much sense, remember that during this time, the Church had a heck of a lot more influence and property than just churches.

*I am no expert in linguistics, Finnish, or Swedish, but from what I have learned, Swedish "r"s sound more like the "r" in English while "r"s in Finnish are rolled (sound like Spanish "r"s). If I'm wrong, feel free to correct me! Also, I'm pretty sure that Swedish isn't phonetic, but don't quote me on that.

*I am no expert in religion either, but I believe that the main difference between Catholicism and Lutheranism is that Catholics have a Pope (whom is seen as a leader of the sorts and someone connected to God), but Lutherans have no such person. (Again, correct me if I'm wrong.)

*The tax reforms were considered more fair (as they reflected one's ability to pay), but when you are as dirt poor as the Finns, everything hurts. However, these tax reforms were also what allowed Sweden to develop what's considered the "first modern army."

Also, I don't mean to say that every Finn was poor. There were some Finnish nobility, but it was likely that that nobility did have some Swedish blood in them. Regardless, there is going to be some more inward tension between the two: the tension coming from the Sweden's seeming lack of care about Finland (though Finns still had to pay taxes).

However, as you may have noticed, Tino's attitude has changed quite a bit. One of the things that I found most interesting about Finnish history is how well the Finns were able to play to two sides (mostly the Russians and the Swedes [or the West]) while keeping their own culture alive; therefore, I think Tino would have that ability. Berwald's lack of response when Muscovy attacked certainly hit a nerve, and has, to some degree, convinced Tino that he needs to stop relying on Berwald so much.

* * *

_A/N: Heh, sorry, ya'll. That's all I've got for you this week. I didn't want to leave you hanging on the last one, but I've been super busy... _

_ BTW, my Canadian readers: A for effort! You all were actually in second place for greatest number of views/visits for about a week. (The Finns beat ya'll again, but still, good job!) _

_ I promise I'll have something worth reading soon! Kiitos for reading! _

* * *

**Dancing on Rainbows: Sorry! Bu****t ****Katarzyna Jagiellonkt a doesn't appear until the latter part of the 16****th**** century. But she and Feliks will be the opening to the next chapter, I promise!**


	12. Chapter 12: Livonian War, Part I

_**A/N: Ravis is Latvia; Eduard is Estonia; Feliks is Poland; Toris is Lithuania. Also, this chapter and the next will move around in time fairly quickly and jump between what's going on in Turku (where Tino is) and the Baltics (where Berwald and the others are); just be prepared for that, and thanks for reading!**_

* * *

**Chapter 12: The Livonian War, Part I**

_**January 1557**_

_ He was terrified. _

_ Not, that was an understatement. _

_ He was beyond terrified. He shook like a leaf in the wind, buildings in an earthquake. A child about to receive punishment. He knew now what the animals he hunted felt before he released his arrow. The desire to bolt. The helplessness. The mad beating on one's heart. The dread. The dread that this might be the end. Or worse. _

_ A sob broke him out of his thoughts. The shorter blond boy to his right was beginning to cry. His normally bright blue eyes, shedding tears like a waterfall. _Latvija. Läti._ How much did the name really matter? Well, so long as it wasn't _Латвия_. _

_ No, none of those mattered. Because to Eduard, he was Ravis. Ravis for who these strong stone walls were built. Ravis for who the food in the garden grew for. Ravis."Shh, don't cry, Ravis," Eduard soothed, wrapping his arms around the smaller. They trembled. But at least they trembled together. At least there was someone to hold. To be strong for. "It's going to be okay. You'll see." But even his whisper trembled. _

_ Ravis' sobs only grew louder. More desperate. "He's coming, Ed. He's coming!" The boy's breaths came in and our rapidly. He was drowning, screaming, crying—_

_ Eduard rubbed his back. "It's going to be okay. We're going to be fine." _

_ It was his own insane litany—and he knew it. _

_ The pounding at the door brought them closer together. "No matter what happens," Eduard promised. "No matter what happens."_

_ "Open up, my little cubs. I need to speak with you, _da_?" _

_ The voice sent chills down Eduard's spine, but he knew that if he prolonged this any longer, the consequences would be greater. He took a deep, shuddering breath, gave Ravis a look, then walked like a condemned man to the door. It took all of his willpower to pull the door open. Eyes closed. Breathe in. Breathe out. Eyes open. _

_ In front of him stood a tall, thick man. Pale like paper with eyes the colour of violets. A thick, white scarf adorned his neck. A long beige coat fell down to the man's knees and all one could see were his boots. Eduard wished he had the courage to choke that nation with that scarf. He settled instead for a meek, "_T-tere, V-venemaa._" _

_ The hulking nation smiled at him. "_Привет, детеныш ._ You have been misbehaving."_

_ He hadn't done shit! Tears threatened to well in his eyes. But Ravis was there. He needed to stay strong for Ravis. Ravis would stay strong for him. And someday, their strength would not be challenged by their neighbour. "I...I, um." His voice trembled, too. Ivan's smile grew wider. "You must be punished, _da_? Cubs need to learn to behave." He moved closer. Eduard did not move back. At least his people wouldn't be too upset. The Estonian nation looked to his neighbour. Violet eyes. So much like that boy from across the sea. He hadn't seen him in so long. _

_ "_Jah._" _

_ He bowed his head and hoped to not remember this. _

**oOooOooOo**

**Estonia, Summer of 1561:**

Berwald smiled slightly as he entered the gates of the city. His. The town was still rebuilding itself. Stacks and stacks of stone were strewn about the street and shouts in some strange language could be heard all across the town as men toiled to fix their broken homes. But they still stopped to smile and bow slightly to Berwald. They were happy to see the Swedes there. Tallinn had surrendered almost immediately, making it quite clear that they disliked the Catholic Polish rule. This city, Toompea had taken a while due to the stubbornness of Caspar von Oldenbockum. Which was fine. On some bestial level, there was nothing more Berwald enjoyed than seeing the faces of his defeated enemies. Particularly these.

Both Sweden and Berwald were not fans of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. Feliks annoyed him to no end with his inability to shut up and his incredibly whiny voice, and Toris, while better, was so meek and servile! But that's exactly what this visit was for. In the distance, he could see the one building that had not been damaged, grey and simple. Just as he had asked; after all, there was no reason to give these two particularly good treatment. As the Swede approached, a soldier came marching out. The soldier stood in front of Berwald and bowed slightly, his green eyes still looking at the Swedish nation. "Sir, I would just like to inform you that the two men you asked me to watch are awake now." Berwald grunted in response and walked alongside the soldier to the door. But on the inside, he was smiling.

This was going to be good.

**Meanwhile in Finland:**

For the thousandth time that day, Tino turned to his sleeping companion, Eduard von Bock. The Estonian lay with his tummy on the ground, covered by only a light blanket. His chest moved up and down slowly, like the waves of the sea. Tino had just come up to check on him after hearing a crashing sound. But Eduard had not woken up. He had merely managed to, in his sleep, push the tea-cup on his bedside table over the edge and onto the floor, shattering it.

_ Eesti_ had arrived only four days before, cowering behind Berwald, flinching every time either the Swede or the Finn looked at him. Berwald hardly remembered the Estonian, immediately taking Tino into his arms and kissing him fiercely. The sight elicited a short gasp from the Estonian, but Berwald and Tino ignored him completely. But Eduard had recovered quickly, staring at them with more curiosity than fear when they parted. "'s Eduard," Berwald grunted, gesturing towards the Estonian, whose eyes immediately returned to the floor. Tino approached him with a smile, trying to ignore the horrid state of Eduard's clothes and the purple around his eyes.

"_Hei_," Tino chirped, smiling widely at the Estonian.

"_Juuli_," the Estonian whispered back, his eyes barely flickering to look at Tino.

Tino forced the smile to stay on his face, but allowed his eyes to dart to Berwald. The Swede merely gave him a look that Tino read as, _I'll explain later_. "Well, it's nice to have you hear, Eduard. It's a fairly big house, and I was starting to get lonely," Tino tried, forcing a laughing. Berwald's arm found its way around Tino's waist, as if to apologise for his absence. Tino smiled slightly at the Swede, looking at him from the corner of his eye. "I can show you to your room now if you'd like; if you're tired, you can go to bed? Or are you hungry? I can make something really quickly and then you could bathe or go to sleep or whatever you want really; I don't mind. This is your home now, too. Right, Berwald?" Tino managed to get out all in one breath. Berwald merely lifted a shoulder.

Eduard finally looked up and gave them the tiniest of smiles. "I'll sleep... if that's okay with you," he replied nervously

"Sure," Tino grinned. "I'll take you there and make sure to have something ready for when you're awake. Do you like stew? I really like the type with lots of vegetables—especially mushrooms— but I know that not everyone does. I'm not sure why; I think it's pretty good, especially during the winter time when it gets really cold. But then again, it is summer and stew is sort of warm... we should have something else. Maybe... no, probably something cold; it's quite warm out, no? Would you-" Berwald interrupted him with a small, fake cough. Tino's face turned bright red. "Right, well, I'll just take you to your room now!" Tino led him into the house and upon entering the room merely said, "Hope you sleep well!" then left. Eduard had practically stayed there since. Tino swallowed, almost about to cry again—though angrily or sadly, he did not know. Because he just couldn't understand. Eduard was just so kind, so caring. How could anyone do that to him? Why was his face purple and yellow? His eyes puffy and his body half-starved, hands trembling constantly. Berwald left two days after telling Tino the Estonian's story and instructing Tino to take care of him; because Eduard was a part of the family now. Tino hadn't minded at all. Eduard had brought something back to him. Memories of calling someone across the sea. Memories of his childhood. Of the good times before Novgorod's attacks.

But it also brought him a constant headache and strange flashbacks. He remembered, for fleeting seconds, his old gods and his old ways; but those memories always left him quickly, and he was only left with the idea that his life had begun the day Berwald stepped into it. It was frustrating to be honest. The two days he had spent with Berwald had been fantastic. Berwald had made him a nice dinner and gifted him a small wooden bear that he'd managed to carve on his way back. It made Tino happy to know that he was not forgotten, but the more he thought about it, the sadder it was: that he was happy because he wasn't forgotten. Shouldn't he expect that much from Berwald? To not be forgotten? To be allowed to accompany him? But Berwald had given him the same excuse as always: that he cared too much for the Finn to let him get hurt. And Tino appreciated it—he really did—but he was starting to feel trapped inside this house. It was like Berwald wasn't letting him fight, so that Tino couldn't leave; so that Tino couldn't prove to himself that he would be okay on his own.

Tino lowered his eyes in shame.

He had thought about it before. Independence. Sovereignty. A nation of his own. What would that be like...? The Finn scowled suddenly, standing up and walking out the door, not even bothering to close it softly. He leaned his head against the wall for a moment, closing his eyes—then snapped them open and ran. Ran down the hallways and the door and into the forest. He kept running, and he could fool himself that it was as it had been back in those days when he was alone. Tears began streaming from his eyes, and he stopped running. He sniffled a bit, retreating back to slump himself against one of the trees. He loved him. He loved him. He loved him, and it hurt. Why did Berwald leave him here? Why couldn't Berwald trust him?

_You're the one thinking about independence. He knows. He knows that you'll leave once you know that you can go at it alone._

"No, I won't!" Tino whispered, turning around to face the tree, and embracing it.

_But where is he, Tino? He left you alone. Doesn't that mean that you can take it?_

"I'm not leaving him," Tino whispered stubbornly. "I won't ev—" He stopped, feeling a small dent in the tree with his fingers. "Huh?" He removed his arms from the tree's sides, and walked to where his fingers had touched the dent. Bending down slightly, he stared at the cut. It wasn't deep, but perhaps that was because it seemed rather...old. He ran his finger across the cut—and remembered:

* * *

_The sky was dark. An omen for sure. Ukko* was not happy. Tino panted as he ran between the trees, farther west, farther west. He didn't know why he was running; his short legs would never allow him to escape Novgorod. But he was scared. His breathing grew faster and more labored as he jumped over the roots of a tree. He could hear Novgorod's laughter close behind him. With what little energy he had, he grasped at the small wooden bear that hung around his neck, singing as much as he could for the Bear to help him*._

_ And in the distance, he saw that he was approaching another figure. Taller than Tino himself, but not by too much. Blond, messy hair. Tino couldn't be sure, but whoever it was had to be better than Novgorod. "_Auttakaa!_" Tino screamed. The figure turned towards him and started running. Relief __flooded him—until he noticed that the boy was carrying a thick looking staff and preparing to strike at Tino. But Tino could not stop running—maybe he could explain to this strange boy what was—maybe the boy wouldn't—the staff swung down, and Tino tossed himself into the snow to avoid being hit. Without sparing a __glance__ at the boy, tears welled up in Tino's eyes as he scrambled to get on two feet at continued running. This was so unfair! He was so tired; he just wanted to stop—and he did as he heard the smack of wood and bronze, but no one following him. He turned. _

_ The boy was now holding Novgorod's sword high in the air, about to strike the larger land. The larger moved before the boy could, __and the sword made a deep cut into the tree instead. Novgorod__ merely sneered and ran off. The boy made to follow, but did not get far. He obviously did not want the trouble. The boy now turned, and Tino flinched. As he approached, Tino could see that he had a serious, almost mean gaze. His blue eyes, though beautiful, were narrowed as he blamed Tino for all this. _

_ "_K-kiitos_," Tino managed to get out. This seemed to make the boy angrier for his eyes became more narrowed and his brows furrowed. The boy took another step forward—and Tino took one step back. "_Kiitos_," Tino repeated, trying to sounds stronger now. He had his _puukko_; he could fight the other land if needed... oh, why didn't he just leave? But the boy made no move to respond. Maybe he wants something, Tino realised. But Tino didn't have anything on him...except his clothes, his knife...and the bear necklace. __Tino bit his lip. He didn't really want to part with it, but the other boy had saved him. Perhaps the bear had sent him..._

_ Tino yanked at the string that held it around his neck, breaking it. With a small smile, he held out the necklace to the boy. The boy stared at him for another moment, then approached him and took the necklace, holding it in his hand for a moment. Then the boy looked up at Tino. He really did have beautiful eyes. Tino froze as the boy put a hand on Tino's cheek and said in a low voice, "Jag kommer alltid skydda dig." The boy stared at Tino for another moment, then ran off into the woods. _

_ Tino stood still, from both shock and fear. Slowly, he raised a hand to the cheek that the boy had touched, suddenly missing the warmth of the touch..._

_ Who was he? _

* * *

Tino blinked. And stood. And started to walk back to the house. He felt strangely empty as he made his way to the garden. And sat down next to his flowers.

The garden. He had been working outside in the garden the first time Eduard woke up. And when he did, he did so screaming. Tino had rushed to his side, and the screams stopped, but Eduard's eyes were worse. Blood-shot and absolutely terrified. "Please, don't hurt me," Eduard had whimpered. And when the Finn had reached out to try to console him, the Estonian nation shrieked and cowered back. "I, I didn't do anything wrong, I swear!" he'd screamed. It broke Tino's heart.

"I won't hurt you. I promise. You're safe."

He had stared at Tino for a long time, wide eyes wild with fear. Then he blinked, curled again, and went back to sleep. He had woken up about half a day later, calmer than the first time. But still so meek. He answered Tino's questions honestly, but with his eyes on the floor and his voice trembling. He flinched when Tino made a move to touch him. It took Eduard a week to explain everything to Tino. Sometimes, he would stop and just stare out the window. Then when Tino spoke, he would stare at Tino fearfully. "You have his eye colour," Eduard had explained afterwards. "It scares me sometimes."

"Should I talk to you with eyes closed then?" Tino had joked.

But Eduard had merely shaken his head and gone to get more tea.

With a sad smile, Tino thought that at least he had someone who promised him a happy forever. But then again, he amended, staring out at the falling snow and realising just how alone he was, at least Eduard could never be disappointed.

* * *

**Turku, Finland, Fall/Winter of 1562:**

"Like, hey, where are you going?"

The strangely feminine, but not exactly, voice made Tino stop. The Finn whipped around, startled. No one was supposed to be here. Berwald was... away, and Eduard was asleep in his room. But despite all odds, there stood a man—or was it a woman?—only a few paces away from him with shoulder length blond hair and bright green eyes. "Like, hello, are you gonna, like, answer me or not? I can always use the Poland rule on you, ya know?"

Tino blinked at the strange person in front of him, unsure of whether he felt annoyed by the stranger's way of speaking or smiling because that strange, bright pink outfit made the man—or woman, who knew—look sort of... ridiculous? The stranger rolled his—or maybe her—eyes then sighed melodramatically. "Fine. I guess I'll, like, go first. I'm _Polska_, but you can, like, call me Feliks cause that's my name and we're sort of friends now I guess."

Wait, what? Was this that little cross-dresser that Berwald told him about the last time he was here? He was allies with Berwald, but apparently was pretty annoying and cared way too much about clothing. "Um, _hei_, I'm, uh, Tino," the Finn replied awkwardly with a small half-smile—completely unprepared for what would happen next.

Feliks took Tino into a strong hug, rubbing his back. Then the Pole stepped back, leaving one hand on the still-shocked Finn's shoulder, and grinned. "I'm gonna really like you. Like, you have such a _good_ fashion sense! That soft blue looks so tots good on you—" the Pole grabbed the end of fabric, running it between his fingers. "—and with those boots! Killer outfit. Berwald probably has a hard time _not_ jumping you." Tino's face now resembled a tomato. "Oh!" Feliks suddenly gasped, putting his hands together. "You know what we should, like, totally do?! We should, like, have a fashion night! Like, I'll take all my clothes and you'll take yours and we can swap and, like, mix and match and—oh my God, that would be like so totally awesome, right? I'm a, like, genius, huh?"

"I, I'm, uh," Tino tried to input, but Feliks ran right over his words:

"Liet should be, like, the judge. I totally think Liet should be the judge. He always tells me whether or not my outfits look good and—oh my gosh!" He took Tino's right hand, running his fingers over Tino's ring until Tino snatched his hand away. "Are you, like, married?" Feliks asked him in a hushed manner.

"Um, sort of," Tino managed to say.

"Like, to Berwald?" Tino nodded, as Feliks "aww"ed. "You are, like, _so lucky_. Berwald is so tots perfect for you. Like, he's the strong one physically—" the already hot vat of Tino's anger began coming to a slow boil "—but you can always be there for him, like, emotionally. And, like, don't tell Liet I said this," Feliks leaned in a bit, raising his hands to his lips as he spoke into Tino's ear, "but, like, Berwald is, like, freaking hot. You are _so_ lucky to have that piece of man can—"

"Why are you here?" Tino demanded, pulling away, his face burning.

"Sheesh," Feliks pouted. "I was just trying to be nice. And... how can you not know why I'm here? I thought you were here for the same reason." Tino frowned in response; if that bastard had left him in dark AGAIN, he was going to—

"Um, hello, like, Tino in the house?"

"No, I don't know, and you've got five seconds to tell me before I kick you out of this house," Tino snapped. Feliks didn't even flinch, making Tino wilt a bit on the inside at his powerlessness.

The Pole sighed impatiently, then explained, "My princess got married to your duke or something like that, and they're gonna be, like, living here from now on. And I'm, like stuck here, too, because I wanted to go and fight with Liet, but he was like, 'No, it's okay. You'll just get hurt out here, Feliks, and I don't want that to happen.' I mean, I'm, like, not the best at fighting, but, like, I'm sort of down about it." Feliks gave Tino a small shrug and flat smile, compelling Tino to respond kindly:

"Oh... well, that's okay. Berwald's like that with me, too. He said I'd be better off here, dealing with issues at home; although, between the two of us, I'm the better tracker and fighter. But he just doesn't believe me."

"Oh, so, in the relationship, you're, like, the wife, too, huh?" Feliks asked sympathetically, taking Tino's hand into his own. Tinp's anger boiled over.

"No. I'm not the fucking wife!" the Finn snapped. "And I'm tired of people making that assumption! Just because I'm smaller and less strong or whatever doesn't mean I can't do anything on my own, and I'm not a goddamn' wife for fuck's sake!"

Feliks raised his hand in the air, apologetically. "Okay, okay, Tino. I get the point, and I'm sorry for making that assumption. I wasn't asking whether or not you were the wife; I was asking if that's what you're considered. I mean, I don't have a problem with being considered that; I mean, like, what's so bad about a wife? In my mind, it, like, means someone cares about you, you know? Like, that's a bad thing. But, like, I tots get it if you, like, don't. I won't mention it again. I promise." At that, the Pole held out his pinkie. Tino stared at it, then looked up at the Pole, feeling slightly worse than before.

"I...I don't know-"

"It's a pinkie promise," Feliks explained. "Stick out yours." Tino obliged. "Now..." Feliks wrapped his pinkie around Tino's shaking them up and down slowly. "So, I promise I'm never gonna call you a wife again...andwe'rehavingafashionshowtonighta fterdinner!" The Pole broke away and with a wicked grin, began running towards, presumably, his room.

"Wait, but I—" Tino tried to object.

Feliks turned his head, but didn't stop running. "See ya after dinner!" Despite himself, Tino smiled genuinely for the first time in days; maybe having Feliks around wouldn't be as bad as he thought...

* * *

**Just note that I don't speak any of these, so if something's off, please tell me! **

**Translations:**

_Latvija_ – Latvia (Latvian)  
_Läti_ – Latvia (Estonian)  
_T-tere, V-venemaa_ – H-hello, R-russia (Estonian)  
_Латвия_ – Latvia (Russian)  
_Привет, детеныш_ – Hello, cubs (Russian)  
_Jah_ – Yes (Estonian)  
_Eesti_ – Estonia (in both Finnish and Estonian)  
_Juuli_ – Hi (Estonian)  
_Polska_ – Poland (Polish)

* * *

_**A/N: Hei, guys... so I know I haven't updated in a month... so I hope that this is good... and that the scene with Feliks was actually funny. (I've never written Feliks before, so I hope he came out okay). So, I guess Tino really, really doesn't like being called a wife; unfortunately, there's tension between the two (seriously, when did I stop writing them as a couple and start writing an actual history fic?) Sorry, guys, I really can't stick with lovey-dovey stuff **_**-_- **

_**I'm not at all sure what my update schedule will be like from now on, but I'm still on Spring Break, so hopefully another chapter will be out soon. Either way, to those of you who come back to this story, thanks so much sticking with it! And for those of you who are new and reading this and didn't have to wait to read this chapter, **_**tervetuloa, ****_and I hope you've enjoyed it. _**

* * *

**History Notes:**

The Livonian Order itself was fairly divided itself, but covered the area that today is Estonia and Latvia. Ivan IV, Tsar of Russia, demanded that the Livonians pay taxes to him (1551). However, the Livonians were unable to come to an agreement on whether or not to pay him... so he invaded. Arguably, however, Ivan choose to invade for more reasons than that: most western powers still saw Russia as a force to be reckoned with and had begun to sign alliance agreements (Livonians and Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth), and having ownership of those Baltic nations would make trade easier.

Regardless, the Livonians were losing pretty badly and turned to the Danes for aid. The Danes initially only helped set up a treaty between the Livonians and eventually bought several areas of Livonia. Then, the Livonians turned to Poles for protection; most of what the Poles did benefited them (and the Poles were Catholic), so those in northern Estonia turned to the Swedes, who were on peaceful terms with the Russians; by June of 1561, Sweden was in control of the area. Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth took the south (Latvia); in general, the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth wanted the Livonians to be a vassal state, like the Teutonic Knights were.

In 1562, John III, Duke of Finland, son of Gustav Vasa, and brother of Eric XIV (king at the time), married a Polish princess named Catherine the Jagiellonian (in Polish, Katarzyna Jagiellonka). Poland was, of course, Catholic at the time, so she was, too; consequently, she was quite sympathetic to the Catholic cause in Sweden, which had become Lutheran. The marriage didn't really help John's position with his brother; the two were already butting heads in terms of foreign policy—but that's a story for the next chapter, da?

Somewhere in the middle of all this (from 1563-70) was the Nordic Seven Year's War, which was: Sweden v. Poland-Lithunia, Lubeck (a state within the Holy Roman Empire), and Denmark-Norway. That will be covered in the next chapter.

*Remember way back in the first chapter (how can you?! That was months ago!) that Tino mentions that Berwald had tried to attack him, but then ended up helping Tino against Novgorod? Yeah, that's where this comes from. In other asterisks: Ukko is the main god of Finnish mythology and the god of thunder, skies, weather, etc. (Sort of like Zeus, I guess). In Finnish paganism, the bear was the most sacred of animals and were considered the protectors of people; during that time period, wise men (who healed the sick, controlled crops, etc.) would battle each other through song. I adapted that to Tino believing that singing is magical in general and would help him. I can't help but point this out: I haven't seen it confirmed in any website, but I've read the beginning of Kalevala (the Finnish national epic) and there is this scene where Väinämöinen (the hero; and, yes, that's where Tino got his last name) does use singing to case a spell; that's where I get the "singing is magical" idea.


	13. Chapter 13: Nordic Seven Year's War

_**A/N: To dispel any confusion, the Livonian War is still sort of going on while the Nordic war is going on; we'll get to The Livonian War, Part II in the next chapter. Also, this war was: Sweden v. Poland-Lithuania, Denmark-Norway, and Lubeck. (Just to make things clear) **_

* * *

**Chapter 13: The Nordic Seven Year's War**

_It was snowing. _

_ But he didn't feel cold. _

_ In fact, he felt very, very warm. He was pretty sure he was sitting down—or maybe the trees had just gotten really tall... Where was he? In a forest, obviously, but there was something strange about this forest. The bark of the trees seemed too... bright and the leaves—wait, why were there leaves? It was winter! The trees shouldn't—_

_ The sound of sweet singing, accompanied by an almost bell-like sound, froze his thoughts. He could not understand what was being said, but, somehow, the sound drew him towards itself. The notes reverberated softly through the air like ripples in a pond, never ceasing, only adding to each other, creating a sweet melody that pleaded Tino to come closer. _

_ So he did. _

_ His feet seemed to drag across snow without leaving marks as they should. But then again, his feet did not feel cold either. In front of him, sat an old, white-haired man, holding a strange instrument, plucking at it gently. The old man looked up at Tino and smiled, his fingers still grazing the strings of the instrument in his arms._

_ Tino froze. _

_ Without stopping the music, the old man continued to smile gently, then said, "Hello, my land. You have come a long way, yes?" Tino could not speak though he opened his mouth, trying to form words. Finally, he settled for shrugging. The man's smile only grew wider. "I understand. Those in the dream world cannot always speak their thoughts. But sometimes that inability is a blessing, my dear land." He was silent for a moment. "You have come far," he repeated. "I remember when you were a little boy, afraid of being on your own, yet so determined to be so. You found much, yes? You have found love, companionship, and yet... you are not happy." _

_ Tino felt his blood freeze. The last few words had not been a question. Who was this man? How could he know anything about Tino? He seemed like a memory. One of those that Tino struggled to remember, but he could have sworn that he knew this man!_

_ The old man smiled once more, a bitter-sweet smile. "Forgive me for my... negative view-point on that relationship. It was, after all, what led to my banishment. I cannot be pleased with it, yet I hoped that at least in my absence you would have found more than what you have."_

_ Tino could feel the frustration becoming evident on his face. Damn' what the old man said, he wanted to speak! But the old man noticed, too. "I named you. And you created me. But that's not what I wanted to speak to you about. If you are unhappy, my dear land, believe you not that you have a right to act? It is true that your memories are not fresh; that you do not even remember the power of song nor the beautiful music of the kantele. But-" the earth shook. The old man scowled at the sky, then, returning his attention to Tino, his expression softened. "I am afraid our time has been cut short. You will have to depart, but just remember that the kantele may be soft and mellow, beautiful even, but it can be dangerous, too, and powerful beyond measure."*_

Someone was shaking him. "Tino," a hushed voice whispered urgently. "Tino, _proszę_. Please, Tino! Like, wake up!" Tino blinked sleepily. What...? Feliks was leaning over him, green eyes wide with fear.

"Feliks? What's going on? What's wrong?" Tino asked quickly, now completely awake. The Finn sat up, pulling his warm blankets off of him and placing a hand on the Pole's shoulder.

"You have to hide me; I can't explain, but, like, you gotta hide me now!" The Pole's voice rose in pitch desperately. Tino furrowed his brows, but leapt off his bed and led the Pole to his closet. When they'd first arrived, Berwald had made sure that they'd taken the room with an escape route; initially, Tino had been annoyed at the insinuation, but, he supposed, that now it would serve its purpose. He opened the door and gestured for Feliks to go inside. "Do you need to hide or leave?" Tino whispered.

"Leaving would be best... but I, I don't, like, have anything," the Pole whispered back, worriedly grasping at the clothes Tino had hanging. Tino removed the Pole's hand from the clothing. He had learned that rubbing at different fabrics was a sign of Felik's nervousness. And the Finn had grown to really like Feliks; yes, sometimes the blond said stupid things or made inconsiderate comments and was sort of bossy, but Feliks was a good guy deep down. He never let you complain (mostly because he was too busy talking himself), but he really, really cared. "That's okay." Tino led him to the very back of the closet, where the Finn pushed aside a heavy-looking chest to reveal a small trap-door. He yanked on it roughly. The door nearly popped out, but eventually slid back to reveal a small tunnel. "If you go down this tunnel, it should lead you a few miles outside of Turku, into a forest. Somewhere near there will be a small cottage with food and everything. I... I can't promise anything past that."

Feliks gave him a painful smile and hugged him tightly. "Don't you worry for a second, Tino. I'm, like, super sorry, but they'll be sure to, like, tell you later. I really hope I, like, don't get you in trouble or something."

Tino grinned. "I'll be fine. Don't worry. I trust you. Just go."

Felik's eyes were beginning to water. "Bye," the Pole said hurriedly, climbing down into the hole. He looked up as soon as he was all the way down. "_Hei, hei,_" the Pole whispered up, smiling as tears streaked down his face.

Tino returned the smile as he placed his hand on the small door. "_Do widzenia, __Feluś. Onnea_." He shut door, pushed the chest over it, and willed himself to jump back into bed as the noises in the corridor became louder.

* * *

**A few miles away from Oslo, Norway, 1567:**

This war had been going on for too long now, Berwald thought as he continued to march alongside his soldiers. His feet ached, but he dared not complain lest he dissuade his own from marching on as well. At least the cold wasn't as bad any more...

Some days, he couldn't even remember why this had started. All he knew was that there was too much between them. Too much bitterness. Too much anger. Too much hatred. The losses had been great, and there was no real reason to fight; but no one gave in. All of them were convinced that it would be their victory. And true, they might win a battle here and there, but Berwald wouldn't stop this war until he could proclaim himself the victor. He could feel the coldness and unevenness of the ground beneath him, but he dared not stop marching.

The march towards Oslo was going well. They'd already captured Hamar, and he was certain that once Oslo was taken over... oh, Lukas was going to be in pain. But that was okay. Right now, he just felt too giddy to care that he had been walking for twenty miles without rest or that he was about hurt the person he'd once called "brother."

Giddy because they'd been doing so well.

Initially, he had feared that his peasant army wouldn't be enough against Mathias' mercenaries, but he soon found that mercenaries had a very important drawback: if they weren't paid, they wouldn't fight. His, on the other hand, fought for the chance of returning home, a sentiment he shared with them.

_Hem_. Home. Tino.

He hadn't seen Tino in so long that he had almost forgiven him for letting that stupid Pole leave the castle. He supposed he couldn't blame Tino too much. The Finn must have been deluded into thinking that the Pole was worth helping by that idiot, Catholic-sympathiser brother of the King. The lovely Finn certainly hadn't done it to betray him. But still, despite the Pole's seemingly harmless exterior, Feliks wasn't making things easier on the battlefield for him.

Scowling slightly now, the Swede looked up from the ground and towards their destination. Oslo. So close. Small, but perfect for the taking...oh, Mathias would rue the day that he ever tried to control the Baltics. Berwald smiled. The men seemed to walk a little faster, urged on by the feeling of success. No one was going to stop them from taking this.

But Berwald had been in too many battles and a feeling of uneasiness began to pool in his stomach. The city seemed too empty, too quiet...as though the Norwegians did not plan to defend it. It was then that he smelled the burning and saw the grey smoke that began to rise from the city. Too much to merely be the smoke from a bakery's chimney. "Wait, what's going on?!" Rumours were muttered to and fro amongst the ranks. That the Norwegians had tricked them. But had they? Was this all just a cruel joke? They wouldn't dare set fire to their own city... would they? Many had stopped marching, but Berwald pushed on. He didn't expect anyone to follow him, but he could see two figures in the distance.

And he was quite sure that he knew who they were.

"Sir!" He ignored their calls and kept walking; the figures began to walk towards him, too.

They reached each other about a mile away from the burning city.

Lukas had clearly seen better days. The grimace of pain on his face was all too evident, and it became clear to Berwald that the Norwegian was struggling to even stand. His face was marked with small cuts and his cheeks coated with the black of dirt, smoke, and god knew what else. Matthias stood behind, uncertainty flickering across his face as his eyes darted between glaring at Berwald and worriedly checking on Lukas. "_Forræder_... trai, traitor," Lukas spit out as soon as Berwald was within hearing range.

The Swede raised an eyebrow slightly. "We're not an allegiance."

"Did we have to be?" Lukas snapped bitterly, his hand moving to his chest.

"_Norge_... don't... don't exert yourself," Matthias cut in, worriedly.

"_Kjeft, Danmark!_" the Norwegian silenced him. He left the protective cage of Mathias' arms to take a painful step towards the Swedish land. "We... we were supposed... to be... _brødre_. And you... you chose... to fight." He looked at Berwald, piercing him with those dark blue eyes. "I warn you..._Sverige_...I will... I'll burn down... every fucking city...I will burn Norway to the ground before I let you take me." The Norwegian swayed slightly, and Mathias quickly stepped forward to steady him.

But Berwald felt no pity for his stumbling brother. "That so?"

"Berwald, please," Mathias beseeched, tears beginning to pool in his bright blue eyes. Funny, they all had different shades of blue... "He's ill, Berwald. Leave him be. It's all your fault anyway!"

"M' fault? Ya wouldn't revise yer emblem!"

"And you changed yours just to tick me off! And then you go in and intervene in the Baltics where your ass doesn't belong! And now we're stuck in this fucking war and Lukas is hurting and it's all your fault!" Matthias shouted. His cerulean eyes were angry now.

Berwald snorted, gripping the sword at his side. He was beginning to think that he might actually need it. "No, you're just upset because you couldn't protect him."

"I—"

"Understand, Mathias, that this war will not be over under both our rulers back down. I plan and my country plans to continue to fight until we are victors. If you are too cowardly to continue and would rather see your lover fainting from pain and exhaustion—"

"Shut up!" Mathias shrieked. Berwald looked at him contemptuously. Mathias should have expected it. This was what happened in wars; people got hurt. And if the stupid Dane didn't want to see Lukas like that, he should have protected him by not letting him fight. But in the silence, he could not deny that he felt the Dane's pain. Matthias seemed to quiver on the spot, holding an only semi-conscious Lukas tightly. Sweden begged Berwald to attack, but Berwald had other thoughts in mind: if their places were switched and Tino were in that state... No. He didn't even want to think about that. That would never happen. Berwald would never let it happen. But still. "I won't attack you," Berwald said finally, his hand leaving the hilt of his sword. "Not today, not for you. Just out of concern for Lukas, but don't expect pity the second time around. Take care, _Danmark_."

He turned to leave. "_Du vil fortryde denne_. One day, Sweden, you'll regret this!" He heard Mathias' shout loud and clear. But Berwald neither stopped walking nor looked back. It was too late.

* * *

**Early 1569, Turku, Finland:**

Ever since Feliks had left, Tino had developed a habit of spending the morning in the library. He would plop down on a mat near the window and devour stories of past times—even if the Swedish sometimes gave him a headache. The spacious room almost always smelled of paper, but some days the sweet smell of burning candles overtook the paper. It was on days like those that Tino convinced himself to stay there the entire day and soak in the scent. And so, he would come every morning after a short walk, weather permitting, scan the shelves for some book or another, sit down, light a candle, and read. Sometimes he was there for hours. Sometimes other matters interrupted him, and, to his great annoyance, prohibited him from finishing his novels.

He grimaced at the sound of the library door opening. Today, it seemed, would fall into the latter category. "Tino?" With a resigned sigh, Tino closed his book, trying to memorise that final line, so he could return to it at a later time. "_Hei,_ Eduard! Ready to— What's up?" Tino questioned, breaking into a smile at the sight of his friend looking so happy. "What's got you smiling this morning?" The Estonian nearly skipped to him, standing only a step away.

"Oh! You'll never believe it! John and Charles were successful!" the Estonian grinned, taking Tino's hands into his own. Tino returned the smile, but asked,

"At...?"

The Estonian slumped his shoulders and sighed. "Seriously, Tino, you need to pay more attention," he chided. Tino scowled at the implication. "Remember how they were trying to overthrow Erik?" Tino nodded. "Well, they did it! And John is our new King, and he's moving for peace!"

Tino broke into an even wider grin. "Eduard! That's fantastic!" He hugged the Estonian nation tightly. True, it might still be a many months before peace was made, but John would get them there—and then Berwald could come home.

…**...**

He was exhausted. This war, this accursed war... how he regretted all of these... disagreements. But he had no choice. He had to keep fighting. Sweden had to keep fighting. Berwald blinked, trying to stop himself from falling against a tree. He had been doing well... perhaps, perhaps that meant he'd go home soon. He'd be back with Tino soon... he couldn't even be... angry any more. His vision was growing hazy. He had not slept in days. While his army was made of peasants, Mathias' was made of professionals... and every time... every time he closed his eyes, he could see... he could see them dying...

Maybe... maybe he could rest here for just a minute...

What had started this all, anyway? A silly fight about an emblem? Oh, right, control of the Baltics. Well, for fuck's sake, what did he care? He just wanted to return home... The Swede blinked heavily. He was so tired...

The crackle of wood made the Swede's heade snap up and his knees bend him into a slight crouch. "Who's there?" Berwald asked loudly as he drew his sword. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..._

"Relax, you dumbass, it's only me." Mathias appeared from behind a tree, with a tight smile. "How's it going... bro?" The last word lingered in the air between them. The Dane had drawn no arm and appeared to be just as exhausted as Berwald, but approached him with slow and steady steps nonetheless.

Berwald scowled slightly. "What d'ya want?" He had not stepped out of his crouch and, in fact, stuck his sword out a little further so that it created a two-foot space between himself and Mathias. He was not about the fall into the Dane's trap.

"To talk. Brother to brother."

Berwald opened his mouth to speak, but the Dane swiped his hand through the air, shutting up the Swede immediately. Mathias had always done that to him when they were children, claiming that once Berwald was in a talkative mood, such action was necessary to quiet him. The Dane's smile became a little sadder. "You still remember that, huh?" Berwald did not acknowledge the question, a little irritated with himself for having obeyed the gesture. "Okay, Berwald, I get it. You're pissed." The Dane paused, expecting a reaction from the Swede. Berwald did not move. "I am, too. I don't want this war. I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of having to worry constantly about Lukas and about whether or not he's okay. I'm tired of being told what to do. I'm tired of having to keep up this constant 'I'm better than you attitude.' I'm tired of it all, Berwald." The Dane finished in a rush, looking at the Swede was wide, honest blue eyes. "Can we please... just talk? I left my army behind in the dust a while ago. They'll be looking for me, but I'm guessing yours are looking for you, too. Can't we just sit and talk while we wait for them? … Please?"

Silence fell over them. Then Berwald put away his sword.

And Mathias immediately tackled him. They rolled across the dirt, Berwald mentally cursing himself for having trusted the Dane. They kicked and scratched at each other until they finally crashed into a tree trunk and Mathias pinned down Berwald's arms.

It took Berwald a moment to realise that Mathias was laughing.

Strangely enough, Berwald felt his own lips twitch at the sound. It was familiar, but it had been years since he had last heard that sound. The Dane merely laughed harder at Berwald's attempt to fight the smile, and Berwald, smirking lightly, took the opportunity of the distracted Dane to flip their positions. Sure enough, Mathias stopped laughing immediately. "No fair, Waldy," Mathias whined, a small smirk on face at the mention of the nickname. Berwald grimaced and held his wrists even more tightly against the ground, certain that he was preventing blood flow. "Alright, alright," Mathias finally surrendered. "You win. Like always. Because you cheat."

"But I still win," Berwald countered, letting go of the Dane's wrists and moving away to allow Mathias to sit up. The Danish nation smiled as he moved to lean against a tree.

"True."

Another short pause. Mathias rubbed at his wrists absently then asked casually, "How's the wife?" The Dane shot a grin. He knew that even though Tino hated that description, Berwald was... well, he rather liked that word. Back when they'd been a Union—no regrets, Mat, no regrets, you promised—Berwald had confessed that the only reason he didn't approve of Lukas and Mathias calling Tino "wife" was because Tino didn't like it. _But it's sort of cute, don't ya think? It makes me feel like I'm allowed to take care of him. To protect him._

"He's alright. I miss 'im."

Mathias gave him a small smile, pulling his knees closer to his chest, but spreading them apart. The Dane leaned forward until his chin lay on his crossed arms atop his knees. "I'm sorry. I really am. I know I'd miss Lukas a ton as well if he weren't a part of this... I'm not sure which is worse. Them not being here, or them being so far away. But Lukas would never let me protect him." Mathias paused, smiling at the thought. "Then again, I guess it makes sense. After all, Tino was—"

"Never a Viking," they chorused. The Swede and the Dane finally smiled at each other. Mathias gestured for Berwald to join him against the tree, patting the ground next to him. After a moment of hesitation, Berwald joined him. A comfortable silence settled around them. Just like the old days, Mathias thought nostalgically. Just like that time that Lukas had go on North on his own, proclaiming that he wished to be alone for a while, and Mathias and Berwald had been left alone with each other. At first, Berwald had nearly ripped out all the Dane's hair—Mathias smiled slightly at the memory—but after a few days, Mathias had grown accustomed to the Swede's silence and Berwald had learned to enjoy the Dane's garrulousness. No, he hadn't just grown accustomed to Berwald's silence, he'd learned to appreciate Berwald. Appreciate the way the Swede was so careful, so gentle, so caring. Learned that behind that scary ass face was someone who would never hurt anyone who didn't threaten him first. After all, it had been Berwald who had first taught him how to take a knife and slowly, ever so slowly, carve a delicate bird from a chunk of firewood.

"I...I don't mean the Union," Mathias started slowly. "But do you ever miss it?" Berwald looked at him questioningly. "You know," Mathias tried to explain. "When it was just me and you and Lukas? When we weren't always fighting one another?"

Berwald looked at the ground, looking pensive. For a while, the Swede's brows seemed permanently drawn to each other, but then his expression relaxed into its normal, still frightening gaze. "Yes... And No."

Mathias also looked down to the ground. What would it be like to someday be buried beneath that first layer of dirt? Would it be lonely? Would he even know? A small, sad smile suddenly lit the Dane's face. "I get that." Berwald looked towards him, an eyebrow raised with skepticism. "I get how that's possible. After all, I'm sort of the catalyst behind all this war. But I think sometimes, it's in conflict that we find out who we really are. War tests us. It tells us if we're just being hypocrites when we say that we wouldn't murder innocents. Or that we wouldn't torture anyone. Or that we wouldn't starve our own just to get what we want. Otherwise, all our credibility comes from hypothetical situations and morals. Not that that's entirely a bad thing. But you know what I think?" Berwald was still staring at him with those aquamarine eyes, unblinking; and Mathias knew that he was listening. "I think that someday we will know ourselves so well; we will know famine, pain, and have seen such great horrors that we will change that. And someday, we're all going to have societies where everyone has the basics."

Berwald smiled slightly. "Ya haven't changed."

Mathias laughed, a sound as free as the blue sky above them. "Disappointed?"

"_Nej_. Makes me happy."

Mathias stopped laughing and turned to fully face his Swedish brother. "Hey, Ber?"

"Hm?"

"_Jag __älskar dig._"

"_J__eg elsker dig_."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, enjoying their new-found freedom and camaraderie. A horn sounded in the distance. Swedish. Without a word, Berwald stood up, answering the call of duty. Mathias followed suit, patting at his clothes in an attempt to shake off the dirt and appear nonchalant. The two stared at each other for another second, then Mathias threw his arms around Berwald's torso, placing his chin on the Swede's shoulder. "Be safe."

"I will," Berwald responded quietly, hugging the Dane tightly. They broke the embrace a second later.

"_Held og lykke, brormand_." Good luck, little brother.

The Swede smirked slightly. "_Du också, storebror._" You, too, big brother.

They parted.

* * *

**Historical/Literature Notes:**

*With regard to the dream as a whole: the old man, in my mind, is Väinämöinen, the hero of Kalevala, the Finnish national epic. At the end of Kalevala, Väinämöinen leaves because of the ever-increasing influence of Christianity (that resulted in a decrease of his own influence); however, when he does so, he says that he will come back to Suomi (Finland) when they recall his teachings. Also, this isn't the beginning of the Finnish nationalism movement; this is the beginning of Tino's personal dis-attachment.

*Väinämöinen was also the creator of the first kantele. (BTW, look up kantele music; it's beautiful.)

Nordic Seven Year's War (Northern Seven Year's War) lasted, wait for it...: SEVEN YEARS. More than anything, it was sort of a fuck-you statement and a "I'm no longer a part of the Kalmar Union, now fuck off" from Sweden. There were already a few tensions between the Swedes and the Danes. Both of their kings had died and were replaced with sons, who were pretty young and sort of already disliked each other. Furthermore, Denmark-Norway never took the Swedish emblem from its seal (as though suggesting that Sweden was still a part of Denmark-Norway. Swedish ambassadors repeatedly asked for it to be taken off, but the request was denied. So, the Swedes added the Denmark-Norway emblem to their seal—and refused to take it off when asked.

As you learned in the last chapter, both Denmark-Norway and Sweden intervened in the Livonian War. What I didn't mention was that Denmark-Norway actually wanted Estonia (to have better control in the Baltics), but Sweden beat them to it. Needless to say, that didn't make Denmark-Norway any happier. Either way, the king of Sweden at the time, Eric XIV, was insane (literally). He murdered some imprisoned men and some innocents that attempted to stop him; he ran away after and was found dressed in peasant clothes and still mentally unstable. Afterwards, his brother John, who until this point had been the Duke of Finland (and married to Katherine of Poland), and his other brother, Charles, got Eric off the throne. John became King of Sweden and immediately started looking for peace terms.

The war ended in 1570 with the Treaty of Stettin, a treaty that really sucked for Sweden. Sweden had to pay quite a sum to both Denmark and Lubeck and formally recognised certain provinces as being Danish. The Danes simply recognised that Sweden was its own nation.

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**Hei guys! Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, especially the end with Mathias and Berwald sort of making up. I'm pretty sick right now, so I probably won't be able to get started on the next chapter soon... either way, as I always say, I'll try my best and I hope you all keep reading! **


	14. Chapter 14: Livonian War, Part II

_A/N: ...I'm back ! _

* * *

**Chapter 14: The Livonian War, Part II**

There were needles sticking into his skin. He was sure of it. He couldn't see them, but they were there. Poking him. Making him cringe. He had decided to simply wait it out. If Ivan was serious, he would come looking for him. Fair enough. The raids from the past month hadn't hurt him, but it mildly irritated Tino that Ivan refused to attack him outright. Was he not as good an enemy as Berwald? And so he found himself, leaning against a tree, still as stone, waiting. He had been there since early morning, having let Helsingfors* since dawn. The sun rose higher and higher, as time moved on. But Tino stayed. He knew that Ivan would look for him. And when the Russian found him, he wanted to be ready.

He wasn't just doing this for himself, of course. Lately, Eduard had not been himself, and, frankly, Tino could not stand to watch his friend suffer. Ivan had yet to conquer Eduard's heart, Reval, but the rest of Eduard's body... sometimes Eduard would become violent, unable to control his movements. John* decided, against Tino's wishes, that it was best to lock him up.

No, Tino couldn't be in there anymore. He couldn't have meals with his friend. Couldn't talk to him. Couldn't even see him. The thought encouraged hisrage to rise. Why did these things happen? He felt as though he had no choice anymore, a feeling he detested like no other. He sighed anew, letting the cold air fill his lungs. He had been waiting all day, but he would feel occasionally and always the Russian was closer. He was probably waiting for darkness to settle, for it to creep up on Tino and frighten him as it would a child. But darkness was something Tino had grown up in. Something he never feared to venture towards. In fact, nowadays he associated it with the freedom of Lapland and his occasionally trips to the northernmost part of his country. An area that was constantly enshrouded by cold and darkness, but filled with beautiful white of freshly fallen flakes of snow that buried his calves each time he took a step. The winter time was the best, though. On those nights, he would venture outside his small abode, wrapped in animal fur and hide, shivering, just to see it.

It. Them. The very definition of beauty in Tino's eyes. On those nights, lights suspended themselves in the sky. Pink. Blue. Green. Violet. All hanging in the sky streaming like sunlight, but passive as water in a lake. _Pohjanpalot_. The Northern Lights. He loved them because they were only his, only he saw them, bathed in their beauty. Granted, he did not know if the likes of Berwald had seen then. He hoped not. He hoped that if Berwald had seen something so beautiful that he would have shared it with Tino.

His laments were cut short by the sound of a twig snapping only a few feet away from him. Ivan. "Moi, Ivan," Tino greeted the semi-darkness quietly. By now the shadows had lengthened, but the last few streams of sunlight allowed Tino to make out the Russian's pale hair and purple eyes. The Russian's clothing was a light beige that stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the dark bark of the surrounding trees and white of fallen snow.

"It is good to see you again, kitten." Ivan stepped out of the shadows quickly replacing his scowl with his eerie smile and slowly moved closer to the Finn. "I did not expect to see you out here so far from Helsinki." Tino's eyes widened slightly in surprise. Helsinki? ...Ivan used the Finnish name for the city. Something that not even Tino did. Focus, Tino, focus, he reminded himself. You can't trust him. He lies. He knows you've been here since early morning. Ivan seemed to sense his discomfort and smiled even more widely, spreading his arms out as if to show that he meant no harm.

"What do you want, Ivan?" Tino asked wearily. But the Finn took note of the lack of a weapon: as far as he could see, Ivan had no weapons on him and if they were beneath that long, thick-looking cloak, Ivan would have no chance to draw a sword before Tino sliced his throat. Still, the Finn's hand moved the rapier* at his side as he took a few steps back, taking the utmost care not find his back against a tree.

The Russian's smile turned into a pout. "Can we not have a conversation that does not involve the fighting, Tino? I am sure that you are tired. I am quite tired, too. Can we not simply talk as friends?" Tino raised an eyebrow.

"We're not friends," Tino pointed out testily.

Ivan rolled his eyes. "We do not have to be. But come now, don't tell me that this war was your idea. It was all the Swede's idea, and you have merely been dragged into this. At least that is my understanding, and that is why I have not attempted to hurt you... yet. Unless, of course, you are about to confess that you did play a role in the creation of this war...or are so servile to the Swede that you'd fight someone who is not_ your_ enemy."

Tino bit his lip, contemplating. The Russian's threat was conveyed through his eyes, and Tino knew that accepting the blame and fighting was an option the Russian was only too willing to go for. But the last part... He was not Berwald's servant. Tino produced a grim and bitter smile: the Russian had trapped him and trapped him quite well at that. "Alright then," the Finn said amiably. "Let's chat."

The Russian smiled. "See, that was not so difficult, da? Now we can talk like normal people." Ivan sat down, cross-legged on the snow and patted the area next to him. "Sit." With only the slightest hesitation, Tino obeyed. The Russian smiled again, but, much to Tino's surprise, the smile seemed much more genuine. "Tell me, what do you like, Tino?"

Tino gaped at him for a moment. No one had ever asked him that before. Not even Berwald. "I...I mean, I'm not sure really." Ivan waited patiently. "I, I guess I like Christmas. And the Northern Lights. And I really like cold mornings and nights because then you can sleep in a bed with lots of soft furs and blankets. I like walking in the mornings, too, just after the sun comes out. It's so pretty. The light makes all the flowers and the trees look beautiful and you can see all the colours and when the sunlight hits you, you feel a little warm on the inside." Tino blushed suddenly, not having expected to have given that much information.

Ivan look slightly surprised as well, but pleased. "Well, I can't say I agree with you. I don't like the cold very much. I grew up in it, and my utmost desire is...Could I tell you what I'd like most of all?"

Tino nodded eagerly.

Ivan looked up at the sky. "What I want most of all is to have a field of sunflowers. A really, really big field of sunflowers. I want it to be warm and for the sun to always be out. And I'd like to have a cottage at the edge of the field. Not a big one. A small one, just for me and my sisters."

Tino frowned slightly, surprised. "You have sisters?"

Ivan nodded, turning down to look at the Finn. "_Da_. I have two. Natalya and Yekaterina. Yekaterina is older than I am, and Natalya is younger. But we are still together. But I believe that Yekaterina represents a land much further south, and Natalya represents a land closer to mine."

"You're very lucky," Tino commented.

Ivan chuckled. "Not quite, kitten. Siblings come with problems. Much like lovers, _da_?"

Tino rolled his eyes. "Oh, yes, I'm sure that those problems compare. Why don't we grab ourselves a beer and chat about what a waste our families for old time's sake?"

Ivan looked at him, purple eyes widened in surprised. "I don't think you know what you're saying," the Russian responded flatly.

"What do you mean?" asked Tino, startled by the change in tone. He had not meant to offend the Russian at all...

"I couldn't complain about my family," the Russian frowned. "Yes, they have their problems and all, but I must care for them and they will care or me. That is what family is for, _da_? Yes, my older sister is a cry-baby, and she cannot stand the cold, but she knits this scarf for me and I make sure that a fire is always burning when she comes to visit me. Yes, she might not work as hard or be as able as I am to defeat the enemies, but she still deserves my love." He looked Tino straight in the eye. "You are alone. You have always been. You have no brothers or sisters to care for or to care for you, and so you have turned to the only other being that has ever granted you a speck of attention. That Swede. But let me tell you something: you do not love him. You do not love him because you think that loving him means sacrificing yourself for him and for his well-being. That is not love, kitten. That is called being dependent on someone, a one-sided relationship. I do not think he loves you either. He does not treat you as an equal. He does not see you as a person, but rather an object to be kept in perfect condition.

"But you should know that on the other side of your border, waiting for you, will always be a companion—who will ask you what you like. And will call you by your true name. _Suomi_." Ivan stood up, brushing the snow from his thick clothing. Tino watched as Russian stood, unable to find words to contradict him. "Goodbye, Tino Väinämöinen. I hope that when we see each other again, we really can be friends."

At with that, the Russian disappeared into the darkness, leaving Tino more confused and upset than he had ever been before.

* * *

**Cesis*, Latvia: 1577 – 1578**

The fire in front of him crackled violently, casting shadows of the surrounding trees and warming the small camping area. The night, by the grace of God, was not frigid as past nights had been, but a cool temperature that made Feliks long to sleep next to Toris again.

But of course, Feliks had certainly never expected to be here, especially not alone. Since leaving the gracious and kind Finn's home, Feliks had been searching and searching for Toris—whom he'd still been unable to find—until he was called back to his land to celebrate the new king's coronation. He had desperately hoped to see Toris there and was disappointed to learn that Toris was still out there, fighting. Initially, the Pole had tried his best to respect Toris' wish that he not go to war, but Batory was adamant. The Swedes needed them more than ever, and they needed the Swedes more than ever, Batory declared. Now that Russia has been weakened in war with Crimean Tartars, now was the time to strike hard. Feliks figured he may as well go along with it. After all, he might see Toris sooner rather than later if he accepted...

And so, Feliks had been sent north to build a good relationship with Berwald—who hated him regardless—and fight against the Russians. All in one nice package. The least Batory could have done, thought the Pole bitterly as he threw another stick into the fire, was get me some new clothes for the trip. He grimaced slightly at the thought of his now dirty favourite pink shirt. It had been a gift from Liet, and now it was ruined, thanks to this stupid trip. He could trip washing it in the next river... but what if it got even dirtier... Positive attitude, Feliks, he reminded himself, positive attitude. Feliks forced himself to smile as he looked up from the fire towards his silent companion. Was Berwald always this quiet? Didn't the silence just, like, scare him to tears? A small chuckle escaped Feliks' lips as he pictured Berwald crying like a little girl.

Berwald's eyes snapped up, meeting the Pole's. Embarrassed, Feliks raised his hand slightly and gave the giant Swede a small wave. Berwald didn't roll his eyes, but the glare he shot Feliks made clear what he thought of the Pole's wave. Feliks internally sighed. How did Tino deal with this?

"So..." the Pole started hesitantly, a small, nervous smile unfolding from his lips. "What's, like, your type?"

Icy blue eyes brought their attention back to the Pole who was now smiling sheepishly. Berwald refused to even acknowledge the question. Sheesh, though Feliks, he really doesn't like me. But that'll change. The Pole smiled even wider and scooted closer to the Swede. Berwald's eyes never left his face, as though the Swede was trying to guess what Feliks would do next. Feliks bit back a laugh at Berwald's uncomfortable look. "I'm not trying to, like, pry or anything, but, like, I mean, hey, we're two guys and, like, our loved ones aren't here, and I think we should have a moment." Berwald stared at him, completely confused.

Was Feliks asking... no, no way! Berwald felt his blood run cold. Yes, the Pole was an idiot, but he was supposed to be a loyal idiot. He wouldn't cheat on Toris!

Feliks moved closer, and Berwald found himself reflexively moving back. Feliks sighed. This was going to be harder than he thought. He reached out and grabbed Berwald's hand tightly; the Swede pulled, but Feliks refused to let go. "Look, Berwald. I know you don't really like me. But... that can change. I can help you make it change. We could have, like, such an amazing time out here, Berwald, and get to know each other really, _really_ well! And I know that there is tots a part of you that really, really wants to express what you, like, want, but can't, like, do that with Tino. But I can help you unlock that part of you—but I'll need your cooperation, too, yeah? Let's makes this time we have together good, yeah?"

Berwald was absolutely mortified. He yanked his hand away from the Pole and stood up. "I...I wouldn't ever do that ta Tino!" the Swede protested.

Feliks' pout quickly turned into an expression of confusion. "Um, I'm, like, not asking you to do anything to Tino. That's, like, sorta the point. That you—"

"I'm not gonna cheat on my wife," Berwald interrupted, with an air of finality.

Feliks' jaw dropped. "Uh...like," he stuttered. "Like, what are you talking about?! I never said anything about cheat—wait. Like, wait, wait, wait, wait, did you think that I wanted to sleep with _you_?!"

Berwald gaped at him. "But—"

Feliks' eyes grew angry as his fist balled up at his sides. "Okay, look, like, here, _Swede_. I might joke around with Tino about you being good-looking, but I would never, never, ever, ever do anything with anyone that wasn't my Toris. I love him, and I am tots insulted that you seem to think that I would EVER cheat on him." Feliks stepped towards Berwald, his pointed finger shaking in anger. "And do you—" tears were being to pool around Feliks' eyes "—honestly think I would ever hurt Tino like that?! Who the hell do you think you are to even think that I would do that?"

"I—"

"I was only trying to be nice and have a conversation, a freaking honest and open conversation, and here you go perverting it! Do you honestly think so badly of me?" Tears overtook Feliks' words, and the Pole desperately ran his fingers across his eyes to get rid of the tears.

Berwald stared at him. You are an idiot, he reminded himself. The Swede bit his lip, not knowing what to say to the weeping Pole. "'M sorry," he tried weakly. "I didn' mean... 'm sorry." Hands shaking with nervousness, he stepped closer to Feliks and awkwardly patted him on the back. "I didn' mean to offend ya." He stepped back. Feliks looked up at him with red eyes.

"I know that—"

"Is this a bad time?"

Both Berwald and Feliks jumped slightly as they turned to voice behind them. A man of medium height and short brown hair stood before them, an apologetic smile on his face and a rolled up piece of parchment in his hand. He wore the uniform of a Lithuanian solider.

"It's fine," Feliks said quickly. "Do you have a message for me?" Berwald couldn't help but notice the hopeful smile on the Pole's face.

The soldier nodded quickly and handed over the piece of paper. "It's from Commander Laurinaitis. He wanted to inform you that the Lithuanian forces have overtaken Dünaburg. He asked that the plan move forward, and that you and Commander Oxenstierna take the fortress at Wenden."

"Thank you," the Pole said dismissively. With a small bow to both of them, the soldier left and Feliks quickly opened the note, tears filling his eyes anew as he read the note. A small smile graced the Pole's features as he rolled up again, kissed it lightly, and tucked it in the pocket of his robe. He noticed Berwald's stare. "What?" the Pole snapped.

Berwald shrugged.

"Have you even bothered to send him a letter at all during this time?" feliks asked, putting his hands on his hips.

Berwald shook his head.

Feliks sighed, dramatically, of course, but he did mean it. "You should," commented the Pole, flipping his hair to the side. "He should know that you're thinking of him."

Berwald frowned. "He knows I love 'im."

Feliks rolled his eyes, irritated. "Yeah. But that's not worth anything if you don't prove it. I'm going to bed. See you in the morning."

**oOooOooOo**

Berwald sat alone, back against the thick, stone wall, waiting. He wasn't quite sure what he was waiting for. A turn of events, an enemy to fight, a declaration of surrender. He wasn't quite sure any more. He sighed anew, staring as soldiers hurried along, coming and going like ants. They were a mixed group: Poles, Lithuanians, Germans, and Swedes. He grateful for the lack of problems thus far; the German troops were indeed expensive, but they were very well trained soldiers and Berwald respected them more than he would ever show.

Which was why they would be part of the force to get them out of this siege.

Berwald stood up, his legs shaking slightly after having been bent for so long. He wasn't quite sure when the relief army would arrive, but it should be soon. In the meanwhile... perhaps he should take Feliks' advice and write to Tino, at least a short little note. He walked along the stone, enjoying the sound of his boots clattering against the rock. What would he say? Tell his wife that he was in good health and that he should be home soon. Apologise for the long wait and lack of letters? Tell him that he loves him still and cannot wait to see him again?

Doggedly, he jogged up the stairs, ignoring the frightened looks from some children that had been playing on the stairs. Their laughter followed him up to his chambers.

But as soon as he shut the door, he heard a mortar being fired. Gilbert was here. Berwald's lips twitched. Oh, Ivan would rue the day he tried to pull a siege on them. The Swede had his hand on the knob when he suddenly remembered why he had come up to his chambers. His smile vanished as he looked at the piece of parchment on his desk. He grimaced and looked towards the door again. Then back at the paper.

He turned the knob completely, yanked the door open, and fled the room.

Tino could wait. Berwald had more important things to do.

* * *

_Historical Notes:_

_ *A rapier is a sword, but smaller and thinner than what you'd imagine a sword would look like. _

_ * Cesis is Wenden. Wenden is just the German name _for the town.

_ In the early 1570s, there were lots of Russian raids into Finland—even as far in as Helsinki (Helsingfors). For clarification: Helsinki, which today is the capital of Finland (though it wasn't then), is the Finnish name for the city; Helsingfors is the Swedish name for the city. _

_ The Russians really did capture a lot of Estonia, with the notable exception of Reval (which today we know as Tallinn, Estonia's capitol). But Russia was having its own troubles back home: the Crimean Tartars invaded, drought brought famine, and Ivan IV's policy of _oprichnina_* wrecked havoc in the government. *_Oprichnina_ was a policy that involved having secret police and public executions; the policy was in place from about 1565-1572. _

_ In 1576, Stefan Batory became the King of Poland Grand Duke of Lithuania; he later allied himself with King John III of Sweden (the guy who married Katherine, the Polish girl, and had been Duke of Finland). Not that that alliance was all that nice either: Poland refused to acknowledge any Swedish claim over Livonia, and Batory refused to give Katherine any inheritance after Sigimund's death. However, since both Sweden and Poland wanted to get Russia out of the picture... they became allies anyway. _

_ The Battle of Wenden is pretty important as it was Russia's first major defeat in Livonia. After this battle, the Swedes made numerous gains of land—much to the despair of the Russians. Then, in 1582, Ivan asked for a peace treaty with the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. Batory sort of betrayed John at this point because in that treaty, the Truce of Jam Zapolski, Russia would surrender all of the land it held in Livonia—but Russia would be allowed to keep the land that the Swedes had won. Instead, for Sweden, the war ended in 1583 with the Truce of Plussa, leaving Sweden with the top half of Estonia—even though the Swedes demanded a lot more. _

* * *

_A/N: Moi ! I'm sorry that I've taken so long to update. I'm finally back in my home-town after a long and amazing semester in DC and ready to write more of this fic ! Updates should be starting to come in a bit faster since it's summer _

_ I also have a request: I'd really, really like to do a flashback of the Scandinavian trio when they were younger and have it have something to do with Norse mythology (because mythology is AWESOME). However, I don't know a lot of stories relating to Norse mythology, but if anyone does please leave a review or PM with a story that you think could work for a cute flashback scene ! (Or recommend a website that has a lot of info). _

_ And as always, thank you tons for reading! _


	15. Chapter 15: Choice

_A/N: As it's not clear in the title, history readers, this chapter will be covering the Russo-Swedish Wars (1590 – 1595)_

* * *

**Chapter 15 : Choice**

Tino stared into the fire, knees huddled against his chest, fingers twisting the cross around his neck. He shouldn't have done this on Christmas.

He didn't like killing.

He didn't like killing for God's sake and yet here he was on Christmas, surrounded by the frozen, red bodies of monks and laymen that he helped kill. He hadn't liked thrusting his sword into that man's throat. Hadn't enjoyed the shots that rang out, each boom silencing a half-uttered cry of terror and anguish. Hadn't enjoyed watching their eyes close; found no happiness in seeing the blood pour from their stomachs and backs and throats, and he didn't want to do this.

He hadn't wanted to do this. That counted for something... right?

He buried his face and felt his lips graze the cross he held. _God, I have sinned..._

The metal was cold against his skin. Cold as the musket he'd held in his hands.

He couldn't tell if Pekka was right anymore – for it had been Pekka who had started this. Pekka who convinced him that this was okay because the Russians had left them no choice but to fight back. Because the Russians started it and fighting back was the only way to end it. Because those Finnish families would be unable to sleep peacefully at night until those Russian demons were banished. Because Tino was their land, their protector, their giver, and he needed to claim that peace for them.

But did peace really come from more fighting?

Tino looked up from his knees at the frozen lake before him. Slowly and shaking slightly, he uncurled himself and stood up, stretching his arms slightly and wincing at the strange sensation in his legs. Still, they took his weight willingly as he promenaded to the edge of the lake. He crouched down and let his mitten-ed hand touch the ice. If it had been light enough, he could have seen his reflection, but the winter months always brought more darkness. Still, he could picture himself. His chubby cheeks and strange violet eyes. Soft, blond hair that he found himself constantly pushing away from his eyes. He wondered for a second how much blood he had on his face, but quickly shook his head and chided himself.

What was done, was done. No need to dwell on it.

He felt no real connection to this lake. He felt in his heart that this was not his land, not by treaty or any other sort of agreement. He simply felt no attachment to it.

Still, a lake was a lake. And a lake was beautiful.

He let his hand rest, once again, against the ice, smiling gently, remembering...

* * *

_Laughter rang out between the trees, a sound that echoed around, alerting the animals and spirits around of Tino's joy. Out of the clearing were many, many lakes, large and small, all frozen. They lay mostly hidden by the thick layer of snow, but their clear surfaces reflected the lukewarm rays the sun managed to provide, informing the Finnish land of their whereabouts. He could not stop smiling. He felt in his chest, in his heart this strange fluttering_ _of happiness, of lightness – of love. "Don't be scared," he grinned at the tall, apprehensive-looking blond at his side. "I won't let you down. I won't let you fall."  
_

_Berwald merely grimaced, looking at the ice before them uncomfortably. "Do I 'ave to?" the Swede asked. His gaze shifted to back to Tino, pleading silently.__  
_

_ Tino laughed again. "Yes." He touched the Swede's nose lightly, enjoying the heat that spread through his body at the simple action. He bent his head forward slightly, pouted, and then looked up at Berwald. "Or you'll make me very sad." Berwald's cheeks flushed, and Tino laughed again, giddy to the point of insanity. "It's fun, I promise," the Finn said, grabbing Berwald's large hand and pulling him closer to the edge of the lake. The Swede sighed, but complied, allowing himself to be dragged to the edge of the lake. _

_ The ice did not look any more safe up close. It's Christmas, Berwald reminded himself. It's the dead of winter: that ice is probably thicker than you. Still, what if the ice cracked for whatever reason and Tino couldn't pull him out? What if it was so cold that he simply froze instantly? What would they do then? And how could Tino get help – there was no one around for miles! _

_ He felt the Finn staring at him and lifted his head slightly, his eyes flickering between the ice and the purple eyes of his _älsking_. The Swede's cheeks flushed slightly. This was practically Tino's way of celebrating Christmas, and he was ruining it by being a coward. If anything, he should be leading his wife to the ice and comforting him. He felt Tino's hand leave his. He looked away, prepared to hear the footsteps as Tino walked away from him. _

_ Instead he felt a hand completely intertwine with his – and through his mitten felt the cold of the metal ring he himself had forged. Tino was looking at him with a small, apologetic smile. "_Anteeksi_. I wouldn't be able to hold your hand correctly if I had the mitten on." _

_ "'M sorry," Berwald blurted out, looking away again. _

_ Tino squeezed his hand. And raised his other hand to Berwald's cheek, turning his face so that he had to look at Tino. "_Hei_... look at me," Tino said softly. Aquamarine stared into amethyst. "If you don't want to, you don't have to do this. It won't make me upset. We can just go back home. We can do something that you like." The Finn smiled at him, tracing small hearts on the Swede's cheek with a finger. Berwald shook his head with a small smile. _

_ "I can do this."_

_ "You sure?" Tino asked, his eyes full of concern. Berwald nodded, and Tino grinned, rewarded him with a short kiss. The Finn winked. "There's more where that came from, too." The Swede blushed violently, and Tino laughed, freedom dancing in his heart once again. "_Okei_, now, take this," Tino handed him two thin, white things. "It's bone," the Finnish land explained. "Be careful because it's sharp. You need to attach it to the bottom of your shoe." Berwald nodded and did so, immediately feeling unsteady and unsafe. Still, he trusted Tino. Somewhat. _

_ Tino couldn't stop himself from smiling. He laid a hand on Berwald's chest, enjoying the blush that appeared anew on the Swede's cheeks. "You ready?"_

_ Berwald shook his head, grunting. Tino let his hand leave and brought it back down to hold Berwald's hand. "I won't let you fall," Tino whispered. Berwald nodded. _

_ Together they stepped onto the ice. _

* * *

The tears rushed to Tino's eyes before he could convince himself to let the memory recede. He needed to go back home. Go back home and talk to Eduard about this. Go back home and talk to Berwald about this. Go back home and curl underneath more blankets than necessary and think about this. Think about what he needed to do next. After all, he always blamed Berwald for doing that, didn't he? Acting without thinking. Joining wars without giving thought to how those wars would affect Berwald. He should stop, too, even if this was hurting. There had to be a better way.

He forced himself to stand up. He was going to find a better way. One that didn't involve all this fighting and pain. One that brought him back to gliding on ice with _him_. One that brought him home.

Hurriedly, he wiped at his eyes and marched through the thick snow of Russian Lapland, unwilling to let it deter him, though it clung to his shoes and clothing as a child clung to its mother. Near, he could see the fires flaming and flickering in the night, forming clouds of warmth with the dark smoke that rushed from their orange glow. There were no trees here, only small shrubs and shadows of the frozen dead. This place did not feel like home. Still, the smell of cooked reindeer meat drew him closer, reminding him that before he left, he certainly needed to eat – and sleep. Laughter could be heard from the pockets of warmth, and Tino ached to join them, to sit and smile and not be drawn to a course of action by his past.

To forget the past for now and enjoy the present.

As he came closer, one of the men noticed him and with a small smile scooted over to make room for him. They knew that Tino was different – after all, not many men can be stabbed twice in the stomach, clubbed by brick in the back, and live with no medical aid, and even regrow a finger! No, they did not understand quite how; they trusted Pekka, however, and Pekka trusted Tino, and so the men tolerated and occasionally enjoyed the land's company. In fact, were it not for his actions in battle, Tino would have fit in with them. Furs covered most of their clothes and their feet were clad in boots that had been wrapped with straps of leather and clothing scraps. Some wore battle wounds as well: scars across cheeks, missing fingers, broken teeth. They were older than the others, still wearing maniacal smiles left by the adrenaline of battle; they, Tino conjectured, were the power hungry ones; the ones who enjoyed the feeling of the frightened eyes of their victims, enjoyed holding a sword to a child's throat and raping women as they burned houses and sneered at the whimpering men who crawled on the ground, helpless and hopeless.

The land disliked those men – but he could not deny their worth in battle.

Others, the younger ones, at least, seemed to be still recovering from the day's events, huddled close together as though through their touching knees they could console themselves and share the memories they wished to banish from their brains. Of course, there were the ones who seemed to be too lost in the ale provided to care; the ones with grim lips that displayed their dislike of murder, but with bright eyes that begged to be questioned, only so that dry tongue could rapidly defend the murder of the frozen dead.

Tino looked around him. These were his people. And they were all paying close attention to their leader. A hush fell over the lot of the them as Pekka spoke: "You know, there are tales of this land. Ancient tales." The leader smirked at the younger men. "Tales I'm sure your mothers told you."

The younger ones looked at him, confused. Pekka laughed. "I suppose not, then. Very well, my lads – and you old folk don't go correcting me; get some sleep while I tell these lads a story for the night." The leader bit back a smile. "Ever heard of Pohjola? Of Louhi, the mistress of that land? Of Väinämöinen?" The young ones shook their heads, looking at each other nervously. Tino merely frowned slightly. He felt as though he'd heard of these before...especially Väinämöinen...

Pekka rolled his eyes. "Of course not. Well, don't going telling your pastor on Sunday I told you these tales for they were scoffed at once the Swedes came a long, long time ago. But they weren't forgotten. Oh, no. These are tales that were passed down, generation to generation.

"And tonight, boys, you'll get a real sense of your mother country..."

**oOooOooOo**

"Oh, good. You're here."

The voice of his King made Berwald turn away – ever so slowly – from the window. John III of Swede stood at the doorway, dressed in his royal clothes. His king looked older now. Much older than when he had first taken the throne from his brother. He sported now a long beard and drooping moustache; his eyes were not as bright as they'd once been. Berwald was loath to lose sight of the world outside for this sight.

John seemed to sense this and his gaze moved to the window as well. "It's beautiful outside."

Berwald grunted, taking the statement as permission to turn his attention to window once more. The snow had been lessening day by day, and today it seemed that ground would finally be visible. It was indeed beautiful outside. The small amount of snow that lay on the ground reflected the sunlight joyfully; smoke poured into the air from the houses that lay across the moat. As of late, Åbo had become a much bigger, much more bustling city. The houses were larger; horses constantly clopped against the cobblestone streets; children now ran back and forth between houses and businesses, earning some of their keep by carrying messages across the town. Only the forest remained the same.

It was the one place Berwald wanted to see smoke emerge. Yet the home in it remained invisible.

As soon as he had returned from Estonia, he had returned to their cottage – only to find it in shambles. The roof leaked viciously and in several places; the door creaked painfully upon entrance; the fireplace was empty and dust covered everything: the floor, the shelves, the table, the fireplace –everything. And the garden that Tino had so lovingly tended was now overgrown with weeds that had not survived the frost. The Finn clearly hadn't been home in months.

"Berwald," John interrupted his thoughts again. And again, unwillingly, Berwald turned away from the window. "You can't wait for him forever, you know."

Berwald glared. He wasn't waiting (hopelessly). He was just... "I know," the land spat.

John looked as though he was about to snap at him, but then thought better of it and sighed. "Anyway, you've heard the news about armistice, no doubt?"

Berwald nodded curtly.

"And am I free to assume that you don't like it?"

Berwald raised an eyebrow. "Are ya asking for my opinion, or askin' me to confirm yers?"

John's eyes flashed with irritation. "Take it as you will. But I would be shocked if you didn't want to become an empire. After all, don't you want to be powerful? We can't go exploring and conquering the New World if we don't put Russia in its place. The better grip we have here, the better chance we have of truly settling the New World – and the more powerful we will be. Think about it, Berwald. Look how much you've grown in the past few years. Yes, yes, yes, all that growth was gained from hardship and many wars. But it's happened. Now is the best time to act!"

Berwald stared at him. Silent.

"What do you want me to do?" the land finally asked.

John smiled in relief. "I'm sending a fleet to Ivangorod. You should leave with them."

"Now?"

John nodded. "They should be ready to depart in a few days."

Berwald looked again to the window. Still no smoke. Just trees. And emptiness. He shouldn't leave. What if Tino was on his way already? What if the Finn was expecting him there, just as Berwald had expected the Finn to be there? The Swede could almost picture it: his sweet wife arriving home to a once more beautiful home with his husband there, waiting for him faithfully, dinner on the table and warm fireplace to sit at and learn all that they'd missed of each other. To learn themselves again. Tino would likely talk and talk and talk about all the new places he'd visited and how he'd gotten along with Feliks and Eduard; and Berwald would just listen, once again memorising every inch of him. And Tino would laugh as he always did, even if there was nothing funny around for miles, and they would kiss, and—

A loud cough interrupted his daydream. Berwald turned away from the window again. John stood near the door, looking at him with slightly raised eyebrows. "I don't know what you were imagining there, Berwald. But I'm willing to bet that it has something to do with him." The King placed his hand on the knob. "You can't always be with him. You know that. You knew that from the start. He will understand; he will understand that why you went to war and why you go to war now. If anything, I think he'd like you better if you were more powerful. After all, think of how many more resources we would have if we conquered those other lands; resources that now he and his people would have access to... But it's just a thought. Good day – and, if you do chose to leave with the ship, they will be departing at noon next week."

With a slight nod, the King left the room. Berwald sighed, looking out the window again, wistfully. His fingers reached up to touch to window until he found himself comfortable enough to let his whole hand rest there.

It was so cold. So un-human.

You're an idiot, he told himself. You thought that just because you live forever, you'll have forever to make a move? Do you even know what forever means? You think that Tino will wait that long? Because Russia certainly won't.

The land's eyes found that spot in the forest again.

Still no smoke.

Angrily, he turned away from the window. He had not been inside this room for a long time now. Not since he left. He assumed, then, that John (or perhaps even Erik) had asked for it to be cleaned. He sensed no major change in the room, but lack the dust and the new papers suggested it had been meddled with recently. Royal blue curtains with golden edges hung from all the other windows, closing him off from the outside world. He walked to them now, raising his hand to touch them gently. They, too, seemed new, or, at least, cared for by someone. He had asked for a study with many windows. He enjoyed being able to see outside; it hurried him along in his work. He had been glad to discover that the window on the far right allowed him to see the area of the forest where his and Tino's home was. The smoke had always been a welcome sight on those evenings that the Swede had wanted smash heads together.

In fact, until all these wars started, he'd always felt smoke was a good sign.

Sighing, he turned to his attention to the new papers on his desk, frowning at one piece of parchment in particular. It was a map. The paper seemed unwrinkled and new. Berwald ran his hand across, looking at his own land near the top of the map, and then at Tino's land. It was a map of the world. His index finger found itself grazing the Swedish Kingdom and south to Poland-Lithuania, then west past the Holy Roman Empire, France, England, on to the sea—

And across it to the New World, where a star lay on the coast of the northern land.

Berwald's jaw tightened. Slowly, he lift up the map. Then quickly tore it dozens of pieces and threw them back onto the desk.

He wasn't leaving. He would wait as long as necessary.

**oOooOooOo**

Sure, Tino missed his _pukko_, but he had to admit that he was good at this with or without it. A small smile appeared on the Finn's face as he dodged another slice of Ivan's sabre. The Russian looked annoyed. But Tino smiled on, still cautious, but willing.

It was by chance that he was here. He had been heading back Turku, but had heard that the majority of the Russian raids had been happening at the easternmost part of the country; so he took a longer route that took him past the eastern border. For nothing really. There hadn't been so much as a Russian word spoken, though he was glad he'd chosen the route anyway. He rarely strayed to the east of land, but now knew it much better. Finally, after reaching the shore, he'd decided that travel by boat would be faster. He had landed in Helsinki two days before, but decided to stay upon hearing that there seemed to be a group of Russians approaching the area.

He was glad now that he had.

Tino grinned all the wider as Ivan's sabre once again sliced through thin air—and smirked at the sight of Ivan's scowl. "So, how's it going?" chuckled Tino, blocking another hide and hiding the pain that he felt as the metal clashed hard. Ivan was stronger than he. But Tino was faster and didn't tire quite as easily. Consciously, he took another step back, closer to the forest. Ivan followed, just like a dog.

Two could play at that game, thought the Russian, swerving his blade to the side. Tino's own sword was straight, like the many other European swords; Ivan's was curved—and he'd been using it for quite some time now. By the looks of it, the Russian land could not say the same about Tino and his sword. "I am well, kitten. Although I am afraid I cannot say the same for that last village."

Tino felt his jaw tighten at the thought, but he resisted the urge to lose control and let _that_ part of him take over. Instead he forced the grin to stay on face as he parried left and took a step back, allowing the Russian to take another step away from the town, as Ivan thrusted his sabre towards the Finn, missing him by hair's length. Just as quickly, Tino countered, managing to nick the Russian's shoulder, and jump back before Ivan's next—pained—thrust impaled him. Tino winked. "I guess that's for that village." Ivan's eyes flashed with anger and he quickly swung his sword at Tino, forcing the finn to take another step back, then stepped forward. Their swords collided and sparks jumped from the clash. The swords connected, and Ivan, sensing that Tino wouldn't be strong enough to hold his sword for more than a few seconds, pushed as he panted out: "You'll have to do better than that to bring solace to all the bodies we've burned." Tino ran his upwards, along the edge of Ivan's, causing more sparks to fly, but released his sword and finally swung wildly at the Russian.

Ivan smiled as he parried to the right then thrusted downwards at the smaller Finn, who dodged quickly, but not before receiving a small scratch to his knee. "Do we subtract your gains every time I nick you?" Ivan smirked.

But Tino did not give him long to celebrate, slashing his sword right then left, making Ivan take two quick steps back. Screw the plan. Tino was going to kill him, right here, right fucking now. The Russian seemed to have other plans, raising his sword slightly to bring down like a club upon the Finnish land. But Tino brought his sword upward, slashing at Russian's wrists. Ivan let out a small cry of pain, but managed to hold onto the sword long enough to slash at Tino's unprotected shoulder. Tino gritted his teeth in pain, but quickly took a step back and knocked the sabre out of the Russian's hands.

Blood flowed freely from the Finn's shoulder, but lost in his new-found adrenaline, Tino did not seem to notice.

"Are you going to kill me?" asked Ivan calmly as Tino approached him.

The Finn shrugged. "Would it matter?"

"What would make it matter?" responded the Russian. "It won't bring Berwald back to you, if that's what you're interested in... Or have you listened to my advice?"

Tino raised an eyebrow. The blood had now reached his elbow, but he held his sword tightly, and brought it closer to Russian's neck, letting the other land feel the blade. "That wouldn't make it matter."

"Oh, then what would?" asked the Russian, not even glancing at the sword at his throat. Tino wouldn't dare. He was a boy. A mere boy. There was a reason Berwald didn't bring him into battle and that, Ivan thought, was because he relied on nothing but tricks. He was weak, small, and probably would never amount to much anyway. He wouldn't last ten minutes in an actual battle.

"You hurting. You feeling what I have felt and what they felt before you killed them. You never entering my lands again."

Ivan let loose a laugh, consciously tilting his head towards the sky, exposing more of his neck. "Even if I wanted to—and trust me, I would love to leave these blasted marshes," the Russian chuckled. "You should know, if you are a land at all, you've little to no control over where you end up in this world." The Russian paused. "As for your other... desires," the Russian said with a more sympathetic tone, "I am afraid that I could never feel that way. I've seen too much death already."

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for you then?" mocked Tino, still holding his sword at the Russian's neck. The cut on his shoulder was beginning to sting.

The Russian shrugged. "Do you? Do you feel sorry me? Do you feel sorry for you?"

Tino stared him, eyes narrowed. This is all a game, he reminded himself, he's just playing with you. He's trying to mess with your head as he was before. The Russian stared back at him. Ivan realised that he'd never really noticed that Tino had the same eye colour as he: violet. In fact, they even had a similar face shape, long with visible, but not prominent jaws. The Russian land wondered for a moment if Tino's hair even looked like his when it wasn't dirty and matted as it was now.

Lucky Swede, Ivan mentally cursed. The Finn was beautiful. His eyes left the Finn's face, scanning instead the Finn's body. A loud cough brought his eyes back up to the Finn's face.

"You're staring at me," Tino stated. And Ivan felt tendrils of fear rise into his stomach. Tino's eyes shone with a certain type of fierceness that Ivan could not describe.

"I...I meant nothing—" the Russian tried.

"Go explain yourself in hell," the Finn interrupted.

The sky. The frost. The Finn.

A glint of metal. Darkness.

* * *

_Notes on the historical stuff: _

_ According to my trusted advisor, Wikipedia, ice skating first became a thing in Finland, some 3,000 years ago (read: Finns, thank you for inventing ice skating; you all rock). For obvious reasons, ice skates back then weren't like ice skates now; in fact, they couldn't skate on ice, per say, they just sort of glided on top of it. But they did use sharpened bone instead of metal. _

_ Before the Russo-Swedish War (of 1590-1595) began, Russia kept raiding Finland, resulting in Pekka Vesainen leading a force of 100 men to Pechenga Monastery (will come up later as it is in Petsamo, one of the places that the Soviet Union fought with Finland for during the Winter War) and killing more than one hundred men on December 25, 1589. Because he was later unable to destroy the Kola fortress, he burned Kantalahti (Kadalaksha) and destroyed a small Russian settlement in Kem. _

_ Once the Truce of Plussa ended in 1590, the Russians and the Swedes officially started fighting again. The Russians actually did fairly well, and a Swedish governor ended up signing an armistice that stated that Sweden would surrender the land it gained through the Treaty of Plussa. Naturally, John III disliked the agreement and sent a fleet to Ivangorod. However, the Swedes were unable to take Ivangorod and left the Russians alone until the summer of 1591. They then attacked another Russian town and captured the governor, Prince Vladimir. While the Swedes dealt with the Russians, the Russians were busy devastating Finland; they even got as far as Helsinki (which in the smack in the middle of Finland's southern coast). On November 17th of 1592, John III died and was succeeded by his son, Sigismund as King of Sweden. This Russo-Swedish War ended in 1595 with the Treaty of Teusina, which gave Russia back all the land it had lost to Sweden in the Livonian War – except Estonia—and extended Finland's borders close to the modern-day border. _

_ The wheel-lock pistol was invented early on in the 16th century and was so user-friendly that it brought about the first gun control laws in Austria and the Holy Roman Empire. They weren't weapons of choice for mass military expeditions, but were used by smaller military units. In general, it's difficult for me to find information about weapons this early in history, but from what I read, it sounded like sabres were the weapon of choice for someone from Russia, Poland, or Hungary (though they referred to it as a 'szablya'). In my mind, Tino is using a backsword, which was the weapon of choice for a common infantry man in Europe._

_ In 1500, the first portable watch was created by Peter Henlein, a German. _

_ In 1569, the first Mercator projection map was created. Mercator maps are the ones that make everything at the northernmost and southernmost parts of the globe bigger than they actually are. Look up a picture of the 1569 one. For people who didn't have the technology that we have today, its Europe, Asia, and Africa are actually pretty damn' accurate. The Americas, not so much, but during this time explorers were starting their trips – and the Swedes will start their own very, very soon. (Wink, wink) _

* * *

_A/N: Moi ! So, I know I said that I would update faster now that it was summer... but it seems like that's not going to be a thing. But be excited for me: yours truly will be leaving for Paris in about three weeks – and she will try to update again before then. _

_ Note: _älsking_ means 'darling' in Swedish. _

_ I apologise for leaving you without a story from Kalevala. As I haven't read the actual epic (or, rather, the translation, as I unfortunately cannot read the original), I felt that I would be unable to do it justice. However, Kalevala WILL come up in the future. It's actually pretty freaking important when the 'fennoman' movement comes into play. By the time we get there, I will hopefully have already finished reading the epic. :) _

_ Moral of the story: Tino does not enjoy being stared at by anyone except his husband. _

_As for the question asked to me by a reviewer (thanks for reviewing, by the way; that's always appreciated): "is Ivan trying to make Tino confused?" Um... will you be too annoyed if I say that that's up to interpretation? Because it kind of, sort of, well, is. However, I would comment that perhaps what's more important to look at is why it bothered Tino so much – and how it will affect his decision-making in the future. :) _

_ As always, thank you for reading, and I hope your summers (or winters) are going well ! _


	16. Chapter 16: Memories and Tensions

**Chapter 16: Memories and Tensions**

It was summer when Tino returned to him.

A good summer, too. The flowers were still in full bloom, letting their small or big petals giggle and gossip in the breeze; the birds woke them every morning, chirping to each other the news of sunrise and new day; the trees seemed taller and wiser, their thick trunks and solid branches reaching into the sky to drink in sunlight; the stream gurgled through, warm for once, sharing with everything and nothing all at the same time; the lake was peaceful, disturbed by none. A beautiful summer.

Embarrassingly enough, Berwald hadn't actually been home when Tino arrived. The house had simply been too lonely. So much so that Berwald had created his own small shack, not too far from the cottage, so that he would have a place to work on his carpentry. The shack was aptly called such. It was even smaller than their humble abode—to enter Berwald had to duck his head slightly—and it was much less beautiful. Berwald had completed it in mere days on his own, being nowhere near as meticulous as he'd been with their home. Consequently, the shed's edges jutted out more than they should have, and the wood seemed slightly slanted, and the walls seemed to come closer to each other as they became higher. But for all its faults, the shed was certainly spacious enough to hold the tools Berwald used, and outside of it, covered by a lower ceiling that was connected the shack, was a pile of wood, ready for use. A perfect place for the Swede to do his work.

It had been a good day for Tino to return, too. Just that day, Berwald had finished creating a replica of the small wooden bear that Tino had gifted him so many years before. He'd found the old bear while cleaning. It had been haphazardly wrap in an old robe of his. The wood was still perfectly intact, though it felt worn, as though someone had been rubbing it quite frequently. He prided himself on still recalling the memory of the gift; it had happened so long ago. He'd reasoned that he may as well make a copy: perhaps then he could keep the old bear, and Tino could have the new copy – so that they could each have one.

But the bear had been complicated to make. For one, it actually quite tiny, a perfect fit for a charm, but unfortunately quite difficult for Berwald's large hands and fingers to fashion. But the Swede was patient. He'd nothing better to do than spend hours in the shack, leaving only when his daydreams led him to believe that Tino might be waiting for him at the house—or his stomach announced its refusal to work without more fuel.

That was the reason he'd returned home that day. The Swede had been promenading through the forest, his mind on what he would create for dinner, when he'd first seen the smoke rising from the chimney. And he knew. Surprisingly, his steps did not quicken, as though he didn't want to promise himself anyway; but his palms still sweat at the sight. He stood at the door for a moment, unsure if he should just open it, or if he should knock. He decided on the latter.

"Coming!" His heart leapt at the familiar voice. A second later, the door opened completely, revealing a shocked Tino. The Finn's eyes were wide, but just as pretty and violet as Berwald remember them. In fact, Tino looked exactly the same, except for the large white bandage that was wrapped his shoulder...

"Berwald...?" Tino breathed. His mouth opened, caught between wanting to say more and smiling. Even his eyes didn't seem to able to decide if they should cry or continue to stare.

"You're home," Berwald said stupidly.

"Ye... yeah," Tino stuttered, finally breaking into a wide, relieved smile and hugging the Swede tightly. Berwald pushed him away—leaving Tino looking hurt for half of a second—before kissing him full on the mouth, arms wrapping instinctively around Tino's waist. It seemed that too little time passed before Tino began to struggle, letting Berwald know that he needed to breathe. When they broke apart, Tino grinned breathlessly. "It's been so long! I missed you!" The Finn held Berwald's hands, tightly. "I'm so happy you're home!"

"Me, too."

"You need to tell me everything. Absolutely everything, Berwald! Oh, I missed you," Tino hugged him again, and Berwald was content to lay his head on Tino's. But only for a second, as a strange smell came to him. Berwald lifted his head up, sniffing and stepping slightly away from Tino as he did so. "Is somethin' burning?" the Swede asked, eyebrows furrowing.

Tino's eyes widened as the Finn gasped. "Oh my God, dinner!" the Finn yelped and ran back inside. Berwald stood outside the door, still surprised by the quick turn of events. Then a chuckle broke free from him. Typical Tino.

It was good to be home.

"Morning!" Tino's cheerful voice trilled as the Finn entered the kitchen. Berwald was sitting at the table playing with something in his hands.

Berwald grunted in response, then, looking slightly guilty, asked, "Ya alright?"

Tino smirked wickedly, immediately catching on to what Berwald was asking. "Better than I thought I would be. I'm a bit sore, but not limping, so there's that," Tino smiled. "You definitely didn't hurt me. Don't worry about, _kultaseni_." The Finn happily walked over to where the Swede was sitting and sat down next to him, taking his hand. "What have you got there?"

"A gift fer ya."

Tino rolled his eyes. Berwald was such a hopeless romantic when he wanted to be. Not that Tino minded all that much. "Of course. What is it?" _Because whatever it is, it's not making up for the length of time you left me with nothing. _

Berwald was silent as he handed the tiny bear to him. Tino held it in the palm of his hand, staring at it. His eyes flickered from the bear to Berwald and then back to the bear. "I...I can't believe..." the Finn struggled. Berwald was confused. Wasn't Tino happy about the bear? Did he not remember where it came from? Tino looked back at Berwald, tears in his eyes. "I can't believe you found this for me. Where? Where was it?"

"In the trunk..."

Tino wiped away at his tears. "Haha, _anteeksi_. I'm probably confusing the heck out of you, huh?" Berwald inclined his head in the affirmative, reaching to grab Tino's free hand. The Finn looked at him lovingly. "I'm happy about it; I really am. I thought you'd lost it. When I was here alone, I kept having all these dreams about my past and that was one of the things I managed to remember. And I was looking for it and looking for it, and I couldn't find it. I was starting to think that it really was a dream, and that I'd made it all up, but I guess not." Tino laughed slightly, then pecked the Swede on the cheek. "_Kiitos. _This is best welcome-home gift ever."

**oOooOooOo**

They'd made the travel to Warsaw mostly on Tino's insistence that he needed to meet Sigismund. Berwald was not in a mood to return to his heart. After all that had happened with John, he wasn't sure if he was ready. Plus, he didn't really like Sigismund. The man called himself King of Sweden yet ruled from Krakow and left Duke Charles to do the job! He may as well have let Charles be King; God knew Charles deserved it after all these years.

But Berwald knew better than to say that. He didn't want to cause any more trouble than absolutely necessary. At least Tino seemed to be enjoying himself, staring out of the coach, drinking in Poland. Berwald resisted the urge to roll his eyes, already imagining his reunion with Feliks. He hoped Feliks wouldn't mention that mix-up that they'd had...

Tino turned, grinning at the Swede like a child. "It's really nice outside, Berwald. You should look out the window!" Berwald smiled, feeling slightly ashamed of his earlier thoughts. He pulled Tino closer to him and away from the window. Tino protested slightly, but allowed himself to be captured into Berwald's arms. The Swede dipped him, so that the back of Tino's head lay on his lap, and Tino would look up at him. "And what is this for?" asked the Finn, raising an eyebrow. Berwald shrugged, his hand now playing with Tino's hair. After a small pause, Tino asked, "Are you still angry with me for wanting to visit Sigismund?"

Berwald shook his head. "'M not mad."

"Well," Tino started, struggling to articulate his thoughts. "You seem... like it. You're being so quiet. I feel like you're mad at me."

Berwald raised an eyebrow. "'M always quiet."

Tino chuckled slightly. "Well, I can't deny that. But more quiet than usual," the Finn pressed. "What's on your mind then?"

Berwald shook his head again. "Nothin'."

Tino sighed. "Alright."

They were both silent for a minute. Then Berwald looked down at him and simultaneously they said, "I love you." Tino chuckled. Berwald merely smiled his quiet smile, bringing his hand once again to Tino's hair.

"I really do," Tino whispered. "I love you."

Berwald kept smiling.

* * *

**Notes on History:**

**Not much to say other than BERWALD REALLY, REALLY, REALLY DOESN'T LIKE SIGISMUND**. **And that will lead to conflict later. Sigismund, child of Katherina (the Polish princess) and John III, was elected to be King of Poland in 1587 – before which, he had to wage war against Maximilian of Austria, whom also claimed the throne. Then, after his father's death in 1592, he is given permission to take the Swedish throne as well. His ultimate goal was to have Poland-Lithuania-Sweden be a thing, but he fails... that will be covered in the next chapter. **

**But, one thing to note: Sigismund is Catholic. Sweden is a Protestant state. When Sigismund became King of Sweden, he was literally forced to sign a document stating that he would not make Sweden Catholic. **

_A/N: Don't judge Tino ! He's a good cook; he's just a bit... well, forgetful_... _Very little historical content here. View it as a break from all of these wars – and these long chapters. :) Because there's another war coming right up. -_-_


	17. Chapter 17: The War Against Sigismund

**Always With You (AWY)**

**Chapter 17: The War Against Sigismund **

Tino leaned his head back against the wood, breathing in deeply. He lay nude on the bench, just close enough to the heat. His skin had long since become slick with perspiration and the condensed steam. The warm, humid air of the sauna had taken on the smell of the birch wood. He loved that smell. He closed his eyes, again, grateful for the break. He had entered the sauna only some fifteen minutes prior – alone, much to his disappointment. Berwald generally refused to accompany him. Although Tino couldn't complain too much. Though he would have enjoyed Berwald's company, his sauna time did give him time to relax and reflect. He opened his eyes again. When was the first time he'd experienced this? His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to recall it. It had been a long time ago. He had looked much more like a child, and the sauna had been quite different. He smiled. It had been one of those nice families that had let him in during the wintertime. They'd found him on the outskirts of their village and offered him a meal and a place to stay...

A loud bang on the door found him jumping up, hand at his heart. Another bang sounded, then an all too familiar, incredibly cheerful voice was heard: "Hey, Tino! What's up, my man? Hey, I was just coming to tell you that I've got something for you!" Tino gritted his teeth, his hand returning to his side, only to clench into a fist. Freaking Mathias. Did he have no sense of respect? The loud banging came again. "Uh, Tino? You in there? I mean, Waldy told me that you'd probably beat me up for bothering you, but I think that once you see what I've got—"

"What do you want, Mathias?" Tino snapped, looking around. Ah-hah! The Finn grabbed an old tunic from the corner and pulled it on.

"Like I said, I've got something for ya!" Tino sighed, able to hear Mathias' pout. The Finn strode to the door and yanked it open. So much for his alone time. Mathias stood at the door, but immediately backed away from the heat of the sauna. "Sheesh, tiny Tino. I didn't know you liked baking!" The Dane then sniffed. "Huh, it smells nice in there, though – even though you stink." Mathias smirked, eyeing the impatient-looking Finn with nothing but humour in his bright blue eyes. The Dane was dressed nicely in a red tunic and black cape, and a small cap lay atop his crazed blonde hair. Surprisingly, a sword hung at Mathias' side. The blonde noticed Tino's stare and chuckled. "I can't help but keep up. Besides those new weapons are loud and inaccurate. It's also a lot more satisfying to stab someone." Tino raised an eyebrow. "I feel like a coward when I shoot!" defended Mathias.

"Whatever," Tino muttered and moved around him. Mathias could wait. His lake couldn't.

"Wait, where are you going?" Mathias asked, following Tino. The Finn ignored him and continued walking until he reached the edge of the lake. Should he step in slowly, or jump? "Hey, woah. You sure about getting in there? I mean, you're probably—" Tino shot him a glare and the Dane quickly silenced himself. Jump sounded better. This lake was deep enough. He stepped back more than a few paces, then, with a final grin at Mathias, sprinted and jumped into the lake. For a split second, he was paralysed with the shock caused by the sudden change in temperature, but his body rapidly adjusted and the lake felt nothing more but refreshing. Tino waded in the lake for a short while, but a loud, irritated cough interrupted him. He glared at Mathias once more, but obliged, walking as slowly as he could to the edge of the lake. Finally, he got out, pulling at his hair and squeezing it in an effort to get the water out.

"All right," the Finn sighed. "What do you want?"

"You know, I really shouldn't give you it, considering that you've had me waiting for at least half an hour. Norge is gonna be mad at me now," Mathias whined.

Tino rolled his eyes. "Well, let that be a lesson for you: don't interrupt me while I'm enjoying my sauna time."

Mathias scowled, but the expression was quickly supplanted by a mischievous smile. Tino narrowed his eyes. "What?" Mathias asked innocently. "All I was gonna say was close your eyes."

"Mathias, can we skip the games, already?"

The Dane shook his head, his smile widening. "Nope, sauna boy." Tino gritted his teeth at the nickname; the Dane merely laughed aloud at his reaction. "I've got something that you would be terribly interested in, though, so I suggest you listen to what I have to say. Now, close your eyes like a good boy." Tino gave him another death glare, but complied. Mathias looked around. Pity there wasn't much snow around. That would have been too good. With a small mental sigh, Mathias simply took the small knife from his pocket. With his free hand, he grasped Tino's and brought them up to his waist, then with the other hand, he placed the knife into Tino's hand.

The Finn gasped and opened his eyes. He looked at the knife, shocked, then looked up at Mathias, his eyes filled with inexpressible gratitude. "You found it," Tino said quietly, his fingers unconsciously running along the hilt. _"Kiitos paljon._ Thank you so much." Tino's eyes returned to the knife, as though inspecting every detail to make sure that the weapon had not been harmed in any way.

"So, who's the awesomest?" Mathias goaded, poking Tino in the ribs with an elbow.

"Certainly not the guy who is going to have this knife stuck in his throat in about fifteen seconds if he doesn't quiet down because he lost my _pukko_ in the first place," said Tino, looking at the Dane for a mere second before returning to his inspection.

"Hey!" Mathias protested. "Yeah, I lost it, and I'm still really sorry about that, but I spent loads of time looking for it. You can't just overlook that!"

"Yes, I suppose I can't," Tino murmured. He looked up. "It doesn't seem like it was affected that badly, though I'll need to sharpen it. In the meanwhile, care to stay for lunch?"

"I would, but, like I said, Norge is waiting for me back home."

"I see."

"But I'll walk you to the door. I still need to say bye to Waldy," Mathias amended. The Dane followed Tino, unwilling to admit that he actually didn't remember how to get back to their abode. He had to admit: it was a rather nice place. Though Mathias much preferred the set-up he and Lukas had. The cottage these two shared seemed too... home-y. The Danish land swore that the next time he came they were going to have a dog—maybe even a kid. Then again, Tino and Berwald did seem like the married couple type. Mathias could almost picture them sitting by the fireplace together with Tino babbling on and on about his day and probably some sort of knitting or other women's work. And Berwald would probably be near nodding off, just agreeing to Tino without even really listening to him. The Dane still remembered, though, during the Kalmar years how Berwald practically courted the Finn, bringing him flowers and buying him little things. Well, Mathias thought with a smile, I guess that works for some people. He suppressed a small snort as he remembered what had happened when he'd tried to bring Lukas flowers. Unconsciously, his fingers brushed over his cheek. That punch had hurt, too.

Although, to be honest, he was a bit jealous of his brother. He wished he could have something that precious that needed constant care. Lukas was precious to him, the Norwegian was the most precious person in his life, but sometimes Mathias felt that their relationship was one-sided. That Lukas didn't really care about whether or not Mathias was there. And seeing Berwald and Tino only made him feel worse, like he'd somehow failed Lukas.

Gosh, this silence was depressing. Wait. The neurons in Mathias' began firing off, and the Dane stopped walking. Tino liked him, right? He wasn't still irritated with him... right? Was that why he wasn't talking? 'Cause normally the Finn was a complete chatterbox. "Hey, Tino?"

"Hm?"

"You're not mad at me any more, right?"

Mathias' slightly ashamed and hurt tone so surprised the Finn that Tino turned around to face him. Since when was Mathias so far behind him...? He hadn't been walking very fast... "Huh? I mean, I'm not particularly happy about it, but you did return my _pukko_, so, no, I don't think I'm angry with you. What makes you ask?"

"You're not talking." Tino gave him a confused look. "Well, normally, you just never shut up," Mathias said, shrugging slightly. "So, I thought you might still be mad at me and that you were giving me the silent treatment as payback."

"Oh," Tino chuckled awkwardly. "I'm not mad. Not at all. Um, I guess, I, um, I don't know. Not in a, um, super talkative mood today." The Finn gave him a small smile then continued walking – in silence. Unknowingly, his light purple eyes had betrayed him. Mathias followed hesitantly, still musing over the sudden change. Despite Tino's casual tone, his eyes had narrowed...Was something wrong?

A loud yap broke his thoughts, followed by a loud gasp from Tino.

"Oh my, you're so cute!" the Finn exclaimed, looking at a small dog. The dog barked anew, and Tino held out his hands, grinning at it as though it were some sort of treasure. "Oh, come here, you! You're so, so cute. You don't look like you belong to anyone." Matthias could only stare in shock.

Looks like they found the dog.

"Come on, sweetie, I won't hurt you," Tino cooed. But the dog still kept its distance, barking every few seconds. Tino turned. "Mathias, could you hurry inside and grab some meat. Berwald will know where it is."

"for what?"

"for Hanatamago, of course! Hurry up!"

Mathias could barely contain his laughter as he ran towards the small cottage and banged on the door. "Open up, Waldy," Mathias howled with laughter. "Your wife has found himself a new pet and requested I help bring it food."

The door opened, revealing Berwald. "What?"

Mathias managed to suppress his giggling enough to choke out: "Yep. Already has a name."

Berwald's expression darkened. "Somethin' crazy?" the Swede asked warily. Mathias repsonded by laughing harder. The Swedish land sighed, but made his way to the kitchen. He had spent all friggin' afternoon making a delicious meal, so that Tino could have something nice to eat once he got out of the sauna – and now it was going to be used to feed some stray dog. Great. But if it made Tino happy... with a sigh, he grabbed a bowl and tossed some pieces of meat into it. The bowl was only half-full, but that would hopefully be good enough. He wandered back at the door where Mathias waited with a smirk on his face. Berwald sent him a glare and stalked past him, Mathias' giggles still ringing in his ears.

Who know, though Mathias briefly, perhaps it wasn't so bad that Lukas didn't require constant attention and pleasing. With a grin, he followed Berwald to where Tino and the dog were having a small showdown. The Finn was now sitting down on the ground, bowl in hand, and attempting to cajole the dog into coming closer.

Tino whistled. "Come on, girl. I'm sure you're hungry. Doesn't this look good? Berwald made it, and he's a great cook. He cooks all the time, and I always love everything he makes." Berwald reddened with each word. The Swede made a strange grunting noise as if to stop Tino from furthering the 'conversation.' Tino turned with a scowl. "Berwald, stop. You'll scare her off," the Finn chided.

Mathias burst into laughter again. "I think what Berwald is trying to say is that you're already doing that."

Berwald's glare quickly turned into an expression of gratitude, but Tino was completely oblivious to their words. He now held some of the meat in his hand, holding it out towards the puppy. Finally, with one last bark, the dog came closer to his hand, sniffing at the meat before take a piece. "Aw," said Tino, ruffling the dog's fur as the creature began to hungrily eat out of the bowl. "Isn't she so cute, Berwald?" He looked hopefully at the Swede, who grunted his approval and walked closer to the dog. It certainly did look quite adorable. Was it a puppy, or was this as big as it would get? The dog looked up from its meal and gave another yap. "I named her Hanatamago," Tino said, no longer looking at Berwald.

The Swede nodded. "I'll start workin' on a lil' house fer 'er."

Tino grinned at him. "I'm sure it will be the very best. I'll be sure to look through clothing scraps and see if I can make her a little collar. Maybe put a little bell on it, so that we'll always know where she is?"

Mathias stood alone, at the edge of this small scene, a small, but sad smile on his face. Yes, this is what he envied Berwald for, these exact moments during which the two looked like a true family. The Dane found himself taking a few steps back, Tino's happy giggles as Hanatamago licked his hand ringing in his ears as the blue eyed-blond turned around, ready now to return to his own happiness.

A few minutes later, as Tino finally managed to cradle Hanatamago in his arms correctly, the Finn suddenly commented, "Huh, where'd Mathias go?"

"He left," Berwald responded simply.

"Oh, I never got to say goodbye!" Tino said. "Should we chase after him?"

Berwald shook his head. "He'll be all right. Let's go inside. Dinner's waiting."

"_Okei!_" Tino agreed, giggling as Hanatamago licked his cheek.

**oOooOooOo**

"I'm leavin'"

Tino whipped around, a pout clear on his face. "But you said you'd help me give Hana a bath!"

"Tino, I need to go sort out some business in Åbo," the Swede said shortly. Tino raised an eyebrow, petting the small dog in front of him with a sad smile, then followed after his love. Berwald hardly glanced him before speeding up his pace.

Damn' Berwald and his stupidly long legs, Tino cursed mentally. "I'm sorry," Tino snapped. "Do you have some sort of problem with me now? I mean, I thought that taking care of Hana was going to be something that we did together."

"You took 'er in. She's yours."

Shocked, Tino stopped walking.. _Wait, what?!_ The Finn jogged a few paces and grabbed Berwald's arm, forcing him to stop walking and turn around. The Swede faced him, irritation clear on his expression. "You never voiced any objections to having Hana." Berwald just scowled. Although Tino wouldn't admit it, that look really did want to make him cower. Still. Something was not right here, and he was not letting Berwald leave like that without any explanation. "Well?" Berwald shrugged, yanking his arm out of Tino's grip. The sudden movement caused Tino to yelp as he fell forward, barely managing to catch him a low branch. Berwald stuck out his hand instinctively, but Tino ignored him. "What the hell was that?" Tino yelled, his eyes wide and angry.

For a moment, it seemed that the Swede was sorry.

Tino stood up again, looking at his now scratched-up palm. The Finn looked at him, waiting for an answer. Then Berwald seem to take a deep breath, and Tino's anger only flared up more. He was sighing as though he were having to explain things to a child. "You have a home to attend to," Berwald rumbled, "and I have business in Åbo that—"

"Turku."

Berwald furrowed his eyebrows.

"For your information, that city is called Turku," Tino said through gritted teeth. _Two can play at this game, if you'd like..._

Berwald stared at him for a moment, then snorted. "You, too?"

"I'm only stating a fact."

"A fact that exists, but is completely unnecessary seeing as that city lies on Swedish land and controlled by the Swedish crown. Therefore you will refer to it as 'Åbo.'"

Tino stared at him. Never. Never had Berwald ever spoke to him like that... so... so coldly. For a split second, Tino's heart fought his mind: tears or fists; sadness or anger? Then with strange, strangled cry, the Finn launched himself at Berwald, knocking the Swede to the ground and managing to punch him in the gut simultaneously. Berwald struggled against him, but Tino pulled out his knife and held it at Berwald's throat. Gasping from the adrenaline rush, the Finn managed to spit out, "You're to going to listen to me, and you are going to listen to me right fucking now unless you'd like to wake up in Stockholm*. Do you understand?"

Berwald stared at him defiantly, but made no move to remove him.

"Fine," Tino said angrily. "Have it your way. But you've no choice but to listen to me, and I hope you listen carefully. Do you have any idea what this looks like from my point of view? You literally just marched into the house and told me you were leaving. After you promised to help me with Hana. Look, I wouldn't have minded so much – I understand that you're busy, I really do. But you refuse to even explain it to me or tell me anything and when I confront you, you try to toss me around and tell me that I need to take care of the house as though that's my and only my responsibility! That's not okay, Berwald, and I refuse to play along with this game. You didn't say anything yesterday about not wanting Hana around; in fact, you were playing with her, too! And you know what that makes me think? That this is about something else. So, tell me why are you so adamant about not telling me what's going on? I thought we'd agreed that we'd share everything and that if one of us ever had to leave again, that we'd find a way to tell each other that we were okay. So, why?"

Berwald remained silent, but his sharp blue eyes still looked at Tino, half-angry, half-annoyed.

Tino let the silence remain for a few minutes. "Okay." The Finn nodded slowly at the word, the continued: "I bet I could start hurting you right now, and you still wouldn't say a word. Okay. Then let me continue explaining why I have you at knife-point even though I promised* –" The Finn paused and seemed to think better about what he would say. "No, I'm not going there. That was years ago. But the point is still the same. I know that you aren't always here and that you don't have the same connection to this land as I do, but I'd like to tell you what it feels like. What it feels like to be used as a shield. Because that's what I feel like right now, Berwald. That the only reason you want my land is to use me as a shield against Russia. I forgave you for leaving me alone and never helping me when they kept raiding and raiding and killing my people. But I also asked that you help me rebuild and instead all you've done is send in soldiers for my people to house when they have hardly enough room and food for themselves! And—"

"Why do ya blame me fer tha'?" the Swede finally interrupted.

"I don't!" Tino exclaimed frustratedly. "I just want—"

"Because there is someone to blame." Tino looked at him, completely confused. "Sigismund."

The Finn sighed. "Not this again. Please."

"It's your fault for letting that stupid Pole leave. Now we're being controlled from Warsaw, congratulations," Berwald continued sarcastically. "Oh, and I'd also like to point out that I'm not in charge of the military and where they are housed. _He_ is."

Tino took a deep breath and bit his lip. "Okay, Berwald," the Finn said finally. "I understand that. But what the hell does that have to do with you treating me like shit?"

"I'm not trying to."

"Well, you are."

"You need to learn your place." Tino stared at him, feeling the tears beginning to well in his purple eyes. Berwald seized the opportunity to take his _pukko_ away and push him off – gently. The Finn did not react to Berwald's movement, but merely moved slightly away from Berwald. The Finn stared at the ground, as though trying to comprehend what those words meant. Berwald bit his lip, and after a minute passed in silence, finally came closer. The Swede handed Tino his knife. Tino looked up at him, confused. He did not move. Berwald frowned slightly, and tried to bring Tino's hand towards him, but the Finn yanked his hand away.

"Don't touch me."

Berwald sighed, placing the knife into a pocket. _Back to square one._ "Tino, will you at least look at me... please?"

"No."

"Tino, I can explain." The Finn did not respond, but a sniffle told Berwald that this was going downhill quickly. "Tino, I don't mean it the way you think I mean it."

"Oh, yeah, well—" Berwald brought his index finger to Tino's lips, silencing him immediately.

"Listen, please." Tino scoffed, pushed away Berwald's hand, and quickly returned his gaze to ground. "Okay. You don't have to if you don't want to," Berwald said quietly. "But I still want to explain. I love you. I just... I can't say it any other way. I love you. _Jag älskar dig. Rakastan teitä_. But I... I know it doesn't always seem that way. Especially not today. But you also have to understand the position that I am in and the position that you are in, by which I mean, that you are, no matter what my feelings for you are, my lesser. By all rights, you should be my servant. I shouldn't have even asked before taking you. If I had wanted, I could have raped you the first day and every day after that. I could have made you my slave in every sense of the word. But I didn't. Because I love you.

"And I have no control over the decisions that my government makes." Anger injected itself into his tone, and his voice seemed to growl out the words: "Especially now that the decisions come from Warsaw from a man who shouldn't be my King." He paused, and his voice softened anew. "I don't want you to hate me for treating you as I do. But I do have to think sometimes that I've given you too much freedom. That I've allowed my heart to take over and have allowed you to control me more than you should. And that is why you rebel so much. Even now. Even after all the things I have provided you with, you still seem to think that you deserve more. I'm sorry that your land isn't as amazing as you wish it to be. I truly am. And I'm sorry that my government has tended to use you as a shield against our enemies. But that does not mean that my government and I have not been kind to you. Our kindness, the only thing that we ask, is that you not cause us as much trouble as you are.

"Does that... do you understand now, love?"

Tino looked up at him. "Yeah," the Finn said, his voice breaking with tears. His breaths turned into gasps as he tried not to burst into tears. Berwald's expression immediately turned into one of concern. _Ivan was right; Ivan was so right_... The tears began to come quickly, rocking his body. Berwald took a handkerchief from his pocket and began dabbing at the tears, but Tino shook his head. "I... under...stand," Tino sobbed. The Finn wiped away his tears and slowed his breathing. Berwald watched, conflicted and confused. _Why is he crying so hard? _

The Finn gave him a small smile, and Berwald returned it.

"You and I need to spend some time apart." Berwald's smile immediately wilted. Tino stood up, and Berwald stood as well. "Berwald, what you just said to me... don't interrupt!" the Finn yelled. "What you just said to me," he continued shakily, "means this: that I should be grateful to you for treating me as an equal; and that therefore, I am not an equal to you. And I can't... I can't live with that... Love is only love when both of stand on the same ground. How can you expect me to believe you when you don't... when you don't even... when I... Just, goodbye!"

Berwald stood still completely shocked. "Ya can't."

"Will you force me to stay?" Tino asked, his eyes empty.

Berwald hesitated. Then slowly shook his head.

"Then goodbye."

And with that, the Finn walked away, leaving everything behind.

* * *

_**A/N:** This chapter was ridiculous. Also, in this fic, when a nation dies, he or she will be reappear in his or her nation's capitol (if one exists). As for Tino's pause: remember that in one of the first chapters, Tino promises that though he's unsure of how to solve arguments without resorting to violence, he will never use his_ pukko_ against Berwald. _

* * *

_**History / An Explanation As to Why This Chapter Is So Ridiculous:**_

The latter half of this chapter was meant to be representative of two conflicts that went on during this time period: the Cudgel (or Club) War and the 'War Against Sigismund.' Cudgel War lasts from November 25, 1595 to 1596. It was basically a rebellion of the Finnish peasants against the Swedes. The Finns basically felt what Tino was describing: that they were being used as a shield against Russia. Due to Russian raids during the Russo-Swedish War, certain parts of Finland were devastated. By the end of 1595, the war had already ended, but the Swedish government decided that the Finns had to house Swedish soldiers. The Finns were not happy about this since the Swedish soldiers hadn't really done anything to help them during the war – and take up quite a few resources. The rebellion was a failure, mostly because the army that the Finns were up against was a professional army with actual weapons.

Sometime after, the War Against Sigismund begins and is said to have lasted from 1598 to 1599. Basically, the Swedes were kind of ticked off that they were being ruled by Sigismund as they felt that he was incompetent and did not represent their interest: he was Catholic and ruled from Warsaw. Instead, they felt that Charles (brother of John III) was the rightful Swedish King. Fortunately for them, Charles thought so, too. Unfortunately for the Swedes, the Finns had no qualms with Sigismund and saw Charles as more of an upstart than a rightful King. Charles was able to win over all of Sweden's mainland (mostly diplomatically), but had to send in troops to Finland. (Now how do you think the Finns feel?) Eventually, all of the 'rebels' are caught, leading to the Åbo bloodbath – but that's a story for another time. :)


End file.
